Pieces
by inthesouthern
Summary: After a tumultuous couple of years, Hotch finally gets a chance to piece his personal life back together, and a new member of the BAU gets more than she bargained for during her temporary stay in Quantico. Hotch/OFC.
1. Chapter 1

**Day 1**

The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit is on the sixth floor of the main headquarters at the FBI Academy. I haven't been here since my training four and a half years ago. Until my tour yesterday, I hadn't been on this floor ever. It looks nothing like my office in Boston, and it's already much busier than I would have imagined this early in the morning. I check my watch. I know I'm on time-early, even-but all the movement makes me feel late. I don't like to be late.

There are people everywhere. Glancing around, I wonder which of them will be my teammates. I don't see any of the people I was introduced to the other day-the woman who gave me my tour, my new boss. For a moment I just stand in front of the elevator watching everything. Feeling nervous for the first time all morning, I swallow hard and step forward.

"Gabriella." I'm half way across the floor when I see my new boss, Aaron Hotchner, heading in my direction. After speaking several times on the phone over the course of my application to the unit, we finally met yesterday. Over six feet, with broad shoulders and a voice as dark and intense as his eyes, he's just as intimidating the second time around.

"Yes! Agent Hotchner. It's nice to see you again," I say, smiling the best I can and extending my hand.

"Same to you. I've heard great things about you from Boston. I'm looking forward to having you on the team." I smile more, glowing a little under the praise.

"I'm excited to be here, sir. I won't let you down."

"Good. I'll take you to your office and we can talk there. And feel free to call me 'Hotch.' Everyone else does."

"Great." I follow him away from the crowded bullpen, struggling some to keep up with his long strides.

The room had become very hushed as we talked, and I am suddenly aware of all the eyes following us down the raised platform that runs in front of some offices.. I groan internally as we disappear down the hall. Being the new kid is not my strong suit.

"Will. You're still here." We reach the office, where JJ's husband, Will, is still packing books into a bag.

"Yeah. I'm almost done. JJ asked me to get a few more things for her," he says in his Louisianan draw. "You must be JJ's replacement?" he adds, lifting his eyebrows at me.

"Yes."

"I was supposed to tell you if I saw you, that she says to make yourself at home, and even though she's on bed rest feel free to call her if you have any questions. She definitely needs the distraction, so call her when you get the chance and talk about something other than how she's feeling." I smile.

"Alright, I'll do that."

"Alright then, I'll get out of your way. Good luck with everything."

"Thank you. Give JJ my best."

"Mine, too," Hotch adds. Will nods, sidling around the desk with the bag.

"I will. See y'all later."

"Usually you would have more time to shadow her before you start alone," Hotch says once Will disappears, "but under the circumstances, I'm going to have to ask you to learn as we go." I nod.

"It's fine, I understand. We were up late last night going through case files. From everything she's told me I think I'm already pretty well prepared, and it isn't _that _different from what I was doing in Boston, anyway." He nods.

"Good. If you have any questions, just ask and-"

"I have all of JJ's contact information and full permission to ask her questions, too," I say smiling, anticipating his words.

"Good." His eyes pass over me, sizing me up. "You seem well prepared. I'll give you some time to settle in before we start on the next case."

"Aaron! I just saw Will on his way out. Is-oh. There she is. You must be…?" An older man appears over Hotch's shoulder in the door. His black hair is streaked with gray, and he's older than anyone I've seen here so far.

"Gabriella Taylor, sir." I offer him my hand.

"David Rossi."

"It's nice to meet you, sir." He nods.

"You, too. You'll tell me when we start the next case?" he adds to Hotch.

"Yes. We'll get out of your way," he says to me. I nod. They leave, and I sit down behind the desk. It feels good to be out of my crowded cubicle, away from the noise of the main floor. Looking around the room, my eyes fall on JJ's University of Pittsburgh degree hanging on the wall. _Hmm. Good school. Not as good as mine, but…a good school._

"Agent-uh, Hotch, I'm ready to present the next case, if you'd like." The door to Hotch's office is open, and when I reach it I see he isn't alone. Standing across from his desk, holding a cup of coffee, is a man I glimpsed a few times during my tour the day before, but hadn't been introduced to.

"Oh. Good. Gabriella, this is Agent Derek Morgan. Morgan, Agent Gabriella Taylor. She's filling in-"

"-For JJ. I saw Emily giving you the tour yesterday," he says, extending his hand. "Derek Morgan."

"Gabriella. Or, 'Gabby' for short. 'Gabriella' is kind of a mouthful." I laugh a little and he smiles, releasing my hand.

"Well you can call me Derek or Morgan, I'm used to both." I nod. Hotch clears his throat.

"You all will have time to socialize on the jet. I'd like to start on the case," he says, pushing his chair under the desk and rounding it to join us on the other side.

"Of course." I'm the first out of the room, and when we reach the conference room Derek holds the door open. Two people already sit at the large round table-one of which is Rossi-and Emily Prentiss enters right behind us.

"Alright everyone, I'd like you to meet Agent Gabriella Taylor. She's filling in for JJ for the next few months. You know Prentiss and Rossi, and Morgan, so that leaves is Reid. Gabby, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Reid, Gabby."

"Nice to meet you," he says, acknowledging me with a nod and a half smile.

"You, too. And uh, for anyone I haven't told yet, feel free to call me 'Gabby.' Chances are I won't realize you're speaking to me if you call me Gabriella."

"Good. Well, now that we all know each other, let's get started," Hotch says, taking a seat that faces the front of the room.

"Okay, um, this case comes to us from Greenville, North Carolina," I begin, passing out copies of the case details. "There's been three home invasion-type attacks…."

* * *

The BAU jet kind of amazes me. I sit towards the back with papers spread out over the seat next to me, but the view of the clouds and blue sky out my window keeps distracting me from my work. I've always liked flying, liked watching the ground disappear beneath me, so I don't know how I'm going to get anything done once the team disperses and we're left to our own devices. If it was up to me, I'd spend the entire flight staring out the window.

"So. Prentiss tells me you're from Boston." Derek takes the empty seat against the back wall of the jet. I turn my notebook over in my lap, happy for the break. The names I was going through were beginning to run together in my head.

"The field office, yes," I say, looking up at him and smiling. "I've worked there since I started in the FBI. Now I'm here."

"Ah." He nods. "So where are you _from_?"

"Charlottesville. Couple hours from Quantico."

"Ohhh, so you're local." I shrug.

"I guess you could say that. Where are you from?"

"Chicago."

"Ooooh, Sox or Cubs?" An odd mix of amusement and suspicion crosses his dark features.

"Sox. Why?"

"Sorry. Habit. I grew up on baseball. If you said you were from New York I would have asked Mets or Yankees." He nods, seeming satisfied with the explanation.

"Who's your team?" I slow smile makes its way onto my face.

"This is quickly turning into a ninth grade getting to know you exercise." He laughs.

"Hey, you started this line of questioning."

"Fair enough. I'm a Braves fan. _And _a converted Red Sox fan."

"Ah. Well while we're on this whole Q and A thing, I have one more." I nod.

"Go for it."

"How'd you end up with this job? If you've been in Boston?"

"_Well_, I met JJ a couple years ago, when you guys were working on the Reaper case. They pulled me to help her out with Boston news stations, and we hit it off pretty well, so we kept in touch. She knew I was looking for a move, so she offered to put me in as a candidate for this. So now I'm here."

"Any idea where you're going next?" I shake my head.

"Nope. Don't know, and I don't really care. I'd kind of like to stay in this area, maybe, but it doesn't really matter."

"It's a cool city. Great nightlife, if you know where you're going." I raise an eyebrow. There's a suggestive tone in his voice, and I'm beginning to see how the rest of this conversation is going to go.

"My experience with DC only extends as far as a few trips to the Potomac Mills mall, a couple of concerts, and a tour of the White House when I was eleven." He smiles.

"Well, if you're ever interested in seeing the _real _Washington, I'd be happy to show you around. I can show you some places that'll top anywhere you used to hang out in Charlottesville. Or Boston." I roll my eyes.

"Ahhh, so that's where this conversation is going. You're good," I say, nodding my appreciation. "You're cute, too, but I have to say no thanks. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea, but…I don't like to mix work and play." Derek raises an eyebrow, a hint of disappointment hiding behind the amusement.

"Alright, I see how it is. Although just to give you a heads up, this job doesn't leave much room for play." I shrug.

"It's only temporary. Ask me again in six months."

"Ask you…what, to go out with me?" I smirk.

"Yeah. I dunno where they're sending me after this, but if I _do _stay around here, then…maybe."


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 3**

Now familiar with the nervousness that settled in my stomach three days ago, I knock on the hotel door with a hand that's fisted around my pen. I can barely hear the sounds of a TV floating through the door, and after a few seconds the sound disappears completely. I hear footsteps, and the door opens.

Hotch is even taller than I realized, now that I'm standing here without my heels. It's also odd seeing him so deconstructed-no shoes, no jacket or tie, with the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone. His suit is so perfectly put together it seems like it's a part of him.

"Hi," I say brightly, trying to make this seem less awkward than it is. "Um, I know it's getting late, so I apologize and I'll make this quick, but could I get your opinion on these two cases? If you're not busy?"

"Yes, of course. Come in." He steps aside to let me in. "You're still working?" he asks, closing the door. I shrug.

"Strong work ethic, I guess." He smiles-sort of. It's the closest thing to a smile I've seen from him so far. "I'm just hoping if I can get ahead of things now, it won't be so easy to get behind later."

"Have a seat," he says, indicating the table and chairs between the miniature kitchen and the rest of the room. "Water?"

"Um, no. Thanks, though." He brings one for himself and sits down across from me.

"So what can I help you with?"

"I'd just like another opinion on these. I'm just-well it's pretty easy to make a case for both of these, you know? And I'm not sure I'm making the right decision. It's like, I know what to look for but I'm afraid I'm seeing the wrong thing and missing what's important. I mean this one," I hand him one folder, "this one, you have three bodies dumped within a mile of each other, in a fairly populated network of hiking and biking trails. The local police have no leads and they're getting desperate, because the last body was discovered by an eight year old who crashed his bike into it.

"Then this one, two families killed in their homes in a small suburb, four days apart. The families were close. Kids the same age, I think the mothers grew up together? Yeah," I confirm, double checking the report. "So what, it's personal? Or…" I take a deep breath and a sip of water, not really knowing what to add to the "or" as Hotch studies the two folders in silence.

"Or you have an unsub who's lost his family somehow and he's taking it out on the rest of the community." I glance up, meeting his eyes for a second.

"Right." He looks down again. The crease between his brows deepens as he flips through the pages. I watch him for a few moments, wondering what he's thinking. I look back down at the open folder in front of me. I spin my pen between my hands, considering all the angles.

"Sorry," I say, smiling a little and glancing back up at him, "for bringing this in here after we just finished one." He shakes his head.

"No, it's fine. Like I said, I'm happy to help if you need it, until you get your footing."

"Thanks. This is harder than it seems. Remind me to send JJ some flowers or something," I add with a smile. He smiles again, nodding.

"I think, this one needs our attention," he says finally, holding up the first folder I gave him. "Random killings, in a small town…they're all in danger. The other…it seems personal. The families had a personal connection to each other, and I doubt that's a coincidence. But the people in the park, they have a serial killer on their hands who seems to be escalating. The second two bodies were found three and a half weeks apart. The first two were two months apart." I nod.

"I think I agree."

"You don't have to solve the case, Gabby. We'll do that. You just have to look at it from the angle of which one _can _be solved. Like you said, the local authorities are getting desperate. They want to protect they're community, from the murders and from the stress and pain of having a serial killer running around. The families…tragic as it is, it isn't the work of a serial killer. This was someone who walked in, shot everyone where they stood, and walked out again." I nod in understanding.

"The unsub's only purpose there was specifically to kill those people. That's all he needed from it. The people on the trails-_this _unsub needs the fix of killing them."

"Exactly. He's stabbing them several times. He's choosing a close-contact method of killing them. There's likely a sexual component and he's escalating, which means he's not getting the satisfaction he was before. There are probably other bodies, when he was working on his technique."

"And he's placing the bodies where they're going to be found, because he wants the attention, which means he isn't going to stop because what he's done has worked and he's getting away with it." Hotch nods.

"Exactly," he repeats. I smile to myself, pleased at having gotten it right.

"You did a good job today," he says. "You'll be fine." I smile.

"Thanks. I'll get it eventually." He meets my eyes, and I feel like he can literally see right through me and read my mind. It's a little awkward feeling, but kind of intriguing at the same time.

"You're a perfectionist," he says matter-of-factly. "You'll do fine." I laugh.

"I don't doubt it." I glance down at the folder laying open in front of me. Sighing softly to myself, I flip it closed, pushing the images from my mind.

"Alright well, I should probably go try get some sleep now. Hope none of this craziness gives me nightmares," I add, pushing all the papers back into the folders as neatly as I can. "Thanks for talking these through with me." Hotch catches my eye and the look he's giving me stops me in my tracks.

"If you need to talk about what happened today…" he begins slowly. I try to smile a little.

"I'm alright. I mean, as alright as one can be after these last couple of days, but the nightmare thing was a joke, kind of." I sigh. _Shit_.

"Are you sure?" I hesitate just a little too long, and I can feel him staring me down as I stare at a spot on the wall above his shoulder.

"I'm fine," I say firmly. "I just haven't thought about it much. I'm kind of trying not to." He studies me for a moment longer, then seems to relax.

"Alright. Alright," he says, nodding. He doesn't look completely convinced, but he drops it anyway. "But if you need to talk to someone, I can help. You can talk to me or I'll find someone for you." I smile.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." There's an awkward pause, and I pick up my folders. "And again, thanks for helping me out with these," I say, standing up. He stands with me.

"Of course." I smile.

"Good night."

"Good night, Gabby." I reach the door, pull it open, and stop. Sighing, I turn around. Hotch is still standing where I left him, watching me.

"Did you…did you all _know _what you were getting into when you took this job?" I ask, kind of wishing I could laugh at this. The fact that I can't find anything humorous in it worries me. "I mean like, I had some idea, but it's only supposed to be a temporary thing. But you, the rest of the team…" I trail off, meeting his eyes. His face is tense without the usual furrowed brows, leaving it looking quite relaxed in comparison. I can see he's choosing his words carefully, and I wish for once that someone on this damn team would just talk.

"No, I don't think any of us really knew what we were signing up for." I nod.

"Ah. I'm not sure if this makes me feel better or worse." The silence his heavy. I shake my head. "Okay, well, I promise I'm really leaving this time," I say, attempting to smile. "Night."

"Good night." I slip through the door and close it quietly. On the other side, I just stand there for a moment, thinking. Maybe it's too early to decide if this was a stupid idea. Maybe I need to give it more time. Pushing it from my mind, I head to my room two doors down, toss the folders onto the table, and flop onto my bed with the TV remote.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 10**

"You're still here?" I look up at the sound of Hotch's voice in the doorway. I blink rapidly, as my eyes don't take the adjustment from my bright desk lamp to the rest of the dark office very well.

"Yeah, but I think I'm leaving soon. My brain is fried," I say, dropping my pen on the open file in front of me.

"Gabby, it's after midnight." I raise an eyebrow.

"_You're _still here."

"I had to finish the report for today."

"Right, well, that whole pile back there?" I point my thumb over my shoulder at several stacks of folders, totaling about thirty cases. "Those came in just in the last four days."

"What is this, a competition?" he asks, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. I laugh, and even to myself I sound surprised.

"If it was, I'd win." He smiles, and my surprise grows.

"Fair enough." He pauses to check his watch. "I need to go. And you should, too." I sigh.

"I will. In a little while." All traces of a smile leave his face, and he almost looks concerned.

"What good is five more minutes going to do you? You're going to make a decision that fast?" It takes great amounts of effort to keep from rolling my eyes.

"Well, considering I've been going over this file for almost a half hour now, yeah I might."

"If you've been going through it this long and you haven't decided yet, you're not going to in the next five minutes."

"I might if you stop arguing with me," I say, grinning.

"Put it away, come back in the morning," he says, ignoring me. I sigh again.

"_Like I said_, if you'd let me concentrate. Don't you have a son you're supposed to go home to?"

"He's asleep already."

"So? If you go home you can't annoy me anymore."

"I'm annoying?" He turns his head to the side a little, and narrows his eyes at me. I hold his gaze calmly; there's no way I'm about to let him stare me down like a suspect.

"Yes. Right now, you're a little annoying."

"You're wasting time, you know."

"Because you're _distracting _me!"

"It's been five minutes." This time I can't help rolling my eyes.

"It's been two." I sigh. "Alright, alright. You win this round, Hotchner, but uh, don't think I'm gonna let you push me around so easily next time," I say, grinning at him as I stand. He looks amused.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he says dryly. I shake my head.

"You don't have to stand there and make sure I leave. I swear, I'm going," I say, realizing he hasn't left as I gather my stuff.

"I know. Good night."

"Night," I call as he leaves. Shaking my head, I sling the strap of my bag over my shoulder, hang my purse on my arm, and turn out the lights.

**Day 13**

I've always been a runner. From as far back as I can remember, I ran everywhere. I was an energetic kid, so it was the easiest way to burn some of that energy. The older I got, joining the track teams in middle school and high school only made sense. As it turns out, not only did I love to run, but I was pretty good at it. So what if I'm only five foot five-_barely_-and most of my competition was upwards of five nine? I was fast enough to be ranked nationally in high school, to get a scholarship for it in college, and to be ranked again.

In the thirteen days I've been working for the BAU, my fitness routine has taken a severe nosedive. The hours are long, and in the one weekend off I've had, all I did was sleep. I can already feel a change from the sharp rise in caffeine in my system, not to mention the crappy fast food breakfasts I keep picking up in order to get those few extra minutes of sleep, and I don't like it.

Now, however, as I run my forth-and final-mile down Fort Lauderdale beach at seven in the morning, I remember why I love this. I feel more awake than I have in days. The sand shifting under my sneakers, the smell and taste of salt and the feel of it on my skin, the sound of the waves…

The sun is barely cresting above the ocean, casting all shades of pink and blue over the beach. The traffic just a few hundred yards away is quiet, and I'm thankful that no one in South Florida wakes up this early on a Saturday morning. Focusing solely on the sound of the waves and the birds, I let my head clear of all the horrible things I've seen and read over the last eleven days.

I reach the hotel a little out of breath, a little sweaty, and a lot happier. Next to the door I came from earlier are a few drink machines, and the gate to the pool. I take a dollar bill from the waistband of my shorts and put it one of the machines, pressing the button for a bottle of water.

Not ready to return to the stuffy hotel yet, I walk back across the street to the beach. Gulping down the cold water, I slip off my shoes and socks and drop them at the edge of the sand. My track jacket follows, and I pull my hair down as I turn for the waves.

"Gabby?" I've barely moved when I turn back around. Hotch is standing next to the low rock wall that separates the sidewalk from the sand.

"Hey." I smile over my shoulder, trying to hide my surprise at being caught by my boss in just my sports bra and shorts. "And here I thought I was the only one crazy enough to be up this early," I say, slipping back into my jacket and zipping it up.

"I guess not." I wait for him to catch up to me before continuing in the direction of the water.

"Yeah. What brings you out here?" He shrugs.

"Woke up and couldn't fall asleep again." I nod.

"Gotcha." With my left hand, I lift my water bottle to my lips, and with my right I shake out the rest of my hair, hoping it falls somewhere near where it's supposed to.

"The sunset is gorgeous this morning," I say when we reach the edge where the sand is wet. Hotch nods.

"It is."

"I got to see it rise. When I came out it was still dark." He turns to me curiously.

"What were you doing?"

"Running. Longest run I've been on in a couple weeks."

"Congratulations," he says, beginning to smile. I laugh. We fall silent again. I take a few more sips of my water, cap it, and step out into the damp sand.

"I haven't been to the beach in forever," I say, drawing a curved line in the sand with my toe.

"Neither have I." Hotch stays where he is. I turn to face him, and the expression on his face is almost wistful as he watches the water.

"Where are you from?" I ask, continuing to draw absentmindedly in the sand with my feet.

"Charleston. South Carolina," he says, directing his attention back to me.

"Ohhh. I went there once. It's pretty." He nods.

"It's been a long time." I smile.

"Yeah, I haven't been home in almost a year." I stop drawing and dig my toes in the sand. He looks at me with mild curiosity mixed with uncertainty. "Just not much reason to," I say with a shrug, hoping to answer some of the questions in his eyes. "Small town. All my friends are living elsewhere. And I'm not close with any family, so, yeah. I make a scheduled trip back every other year for a football game with friends. That's it."

"A football game, huh?" he asks, looking slightly amused. I grin.

"Yep. UVA against Virginia Tech. Last year the game was in Blacksburg. This time it's in Charlottesville." I laugh a little. "It's the one weekend of vacation time I asked for and actually got." Hotch smiles.

"Good luck keeping it." I smile, too.

"I know." I look over my shoulder at the ocean. The sun is now fully visible above the horizon, and I sigh. I unclip my phone from my shorts to check the time.

"I guess it's time for me to head in," I say, locking the Blackberry's keys. "Shower and stuff. I'll see you at the station."

"I'll walk up with you."

"Alright," I say, smiling as I head in the direction of the hotel. He gives the waves one last look before following at my side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 18**

"Well, don't you two clean up nicely," Derek says, just catching the elevator doors before they close. He grins at both of us and leans against the wall next to me. Reid shuffles in behind him.

"You guys aren't so bad yourselves," Emily says. Derek is dressed in slacks and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and carries his jacket over his arm. Reid wears his usual four or five layers, which tonight include a button down shirt, a sweater, a loose tie, and a coat. I exchange smiles with him; he looks like this is the last thing he wants to be doing.

The lobby downstairs is large and log cabin-like, complete with a lit fireplace in the seating area. Hotch and Rossi are waiting for us here, and both rise as we approach. Hotch has returned to his suit, though minus the tie, and I have a hard time conjuring back the image of him in his shorts and t-shirt at the gym. It's a few seconds before I realize I'm staring at him, and he's staring back, and everyone else is talking. I flash him a small smile and look away quickly, turning to the conversation.

"It stopped about five minutes ago, and someone's dusted off the sidewalks," Rossi is saying as everyone pulls on their coats. I begin buttoning mine. "So we should be fine."

The doors open and a blast of frigid air hits us head on. I let out a gasp and bury my hands in my pockets, ducking my head against the wind. The snowfall has resumed, covering everything in a glittering blanket.

"Jesus," Emily says, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Welcome to Minneapolis," Reid says.

"God bless whoever's been clearing these sidewalks," I say, happy that the concrete is only covered in a light dusting. In the glow of the street lights, the snow falls softly and much more slowly than before. Reid is saying something about the usual snowfall in the Midwest. Normally, I pay more attention to his ramblings, but when my gaze dropped from the sky it fell on Hotch's face as he walks next to me. The snow collects in his hair and on his shoulders, and I only look away when a snowflake melts in my bangs and falls on my cheek.

"I don't care what our chances were of getting caught in a storm," Derek is saying exasperatedly. "I was just asking why it had to happen while we were here. It's a rhetorical question, Reid, and I know you know what that means. I don't need the average precipitation rates for the last hundred years." I smile to myself as we reach the bar. Rossi gets there first and pulls the door open, and we all file through.

* * *

The sash on my jacket swings freely as I make my way down the hallway. My purse hangs from the bend in my elbow, and I dig through it with my other hand. My key is in here somewhere, hiding behind the gum wrappers and receipts the who knows what else. _I really need to clean this out later_.

"_Yes_," I whisper triumphantly, finding the card lodged in a pair of sunglasses.

I turn the corner to my room and almost run right into Hotch. I raise one hand instinctively to brace myself, but we manage to keep from colliding. Instead, my raised hand lands lightly on his chest, and I pull it away quickly.

"Whoa, sorry," I say, stepping back.

"It's okay." He looks surprised. "What are you doing back already?" I smile a little, shrugging.

"Decided I wasn't really in the mood. Where are you headed?" I ask, realizing our rooms are in the other direction.

"To get ice," he says, holding up the bucket in his hand. "There's stuff in the mini bar for another Jack and Coke, if you're interested in one more." I consider it for a moment, then nod. What could it hurt?

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." We walk together back down the hall to a little space with drink and ice machines, and then to his room. He holds the door open for me, offers me a seat at the table in the corner, and opens the refrigerator.

"So what do you think are our chances of getting out of here tomorrow?" I ask, shrugging off my coat and draping it over the back of the chair. Hotch pulls a small bottle of Jack Daniel's from the fridge and a can of Coca Cola. He sets it down on the table between us, along with two glasses of ice and a bottle of scotch.

"I don't know. The snow isn't even supposed to stop until tomorrow, so if they can't clear the runways we'll be here another night." I nod, a little disappointed. I want to go home to my dogs.

"Well, maybe it will surprise us. I'd like to go home." He nods and hands me a glass. His hand brushes mine as he does so, and I wonder if I'm imagining this feeling for the second time tonight.

"Me, too." I glance up at him, hoping to see some sort of acknowledgement that I'm not crazy, but I see nothing more than his usual rock solid expression. Deciding to ignore it, I take a sip of my drink. We sit in silence for a few minutes, as my brain searches frantically for something to say….something that doesn't have to do with work.

"You looked like you were running from something earlier," he says, studying my face. I shrug, lifting my glass to my lips.

"You didn't want to run away from today?" He was about to take a drink but sets his glass back down. His eyes sweep over my face.

"How have you been dealing with all this?" he asks finally. "It's a lot to take in. No one's expecting you to handle it perfectly."

"I know they're not. And I'm fine. It hasn't been all that easy but I'm fine." He looks like he doesn't believe me.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm tougher than I look, you know."

"It's not about being tough. It's about being able to process what's going on and not let it eat at you."

"I know. And it's not eating at me. Why do you think I ran for in the gym for an hour today? I needed to think." I pause, scanning his face. "Are you sure _you're _okay? Because I think even you shouldn't still be so tense." I'm probably going to regret saying that in a few seconds, but it's true. If anything the more he drinks, the more depressed he gets.

"I'm fine," he says shortly. I shrug. While he's usually serious about everything ninety percent of the time, he's been downright moody the last few days.

"I guess I should go," I say after several silent minutes pass. I set my empty glass on the table and stand. "Thanks for the drink." I try to smile to lighten the mood before I just leave, but I get nothing.

"You're welcome," he says, standing, too. I grab my jacket and start for the door. "Good night."

"Good night."

"I missed Jack's play tonight," he says as my hand reaches the door knob. I turn slowly. "He was one of the dwarfs in Snow White. Sneezy." He shakes his head. "I would have made it, if it wasn't for the storm." Ah. _There _it is.

"I'm sorry. That's why you left when he called?" He nods.

"He wanted to tell me all about it."

"It's nights like this when this job just sucks, huh?" He smiles slightly.

"Yeah." My hand falls from the door knob and I cross the room again. I sit down at the first seat I come to at the end of the bed.

"At least you have someone waiting for you."

"Want another drink?" he asks, smiling slightly. I smile back, sliding my glass across the table.

"Yes, please."

* * *

Several drinks and nearly an hour later, I still sit on the bed, my shoes, jacket, and purse in the floor at my feet. I study my empty glass, trying to decide what to do next. Hotch sets his own glass down on the table. His is still full of ice, whereas I ate all mine.

"So much for not getting drunk tonight," I mumble, emptying the last bit of whiskey into my glass. I laugh a little. "What the hell am I talking about? This is nothing."

"Familiar with alcohol, are we?" I smirk.

"We have a long history together." He narrows his eyes.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven. So Mr. Daniels and I should be celebrating our…eleventh anniversary this year." He laughs. I smile. He should laugh more often. It completely transforms his face, relaxing the lines around his eyes and mouth.

"What time is it?" I ask, unable to locate my phone.

"Just after eleven," he says, getting up to retrieve his from the dresser. I sigh.

"I guess I should go or…something," I mumble, staring through the dark window. Aaron appears next to me, and I turn to face him. "You know, if you ever need someone to vent to, I'm the only other one who's ever at the office as much as you are," I say with a small smile.

"Thanks for listening to me earlier."

"You had to listen to me, too. I'd say we're even." He smiles, too. _Why is he so attractive drunk? A little disheveled and a little undone, and damn…._

Pushing the thought away, I turn to pick up my stuff from the floor. It takes a few tries to get my shoes on without falling over, and I only succeed when Aaron reaches out to hold me steady.

"Thanks. And thanks for the drinks," I add, turning back around. All of its own accord, my hand reaches out for his arm. He turns to look at me and I'm expecting him to find me completely out of line, but he doesn't move away. He just looks down at my hand, then at my face.

I realize he's kind of caught me between himself and the table. I lean against it, removing my hand from his arm and gripping the edge for support in the small, unbalancing space. I'm also becoming increasingly aware of how close we are, and its direct effect on the speed of my heart rate. He smells like vanilla (Chap Stick maybe?) and mint and scotch. Combined with the mere inches of space between us, I'm feeling more inebriated by the second.

Aaron leans down and I push myself up off the table, using both hands to stay on my toes. His lips meet mine a little tentatively at first, but the kiss grows stronger after just a few seconds. I don't know if it's the alcohol, but he feels surprisingly comfortable and familiar. Kissing back a little clumsily, I feel like I haven't kissed anyone in forever.

I know that it's just a physical response to an emotional problem that neither of us have the strength yet to attempt to solve. This is the easy way out for the time being. But as one of his hands closes around my wrist, and I pull the other to my waist, I have to think that maybe the easy way out isn't such a bad thing.

"You know," I say breathlessly, opening my eyes to see his scanning my face, "this is the second time tonight you've stopped me from leaving. Didn't I tell you I wasn't gonna let you push me around?"

"So leave," he counters, steadfastly holding my gaze in a way that has me desperately wanting to kiss him again.

"I don't have to prove anything to you." He almost looks amused.

"Then why do you keep trying?" His voice is low and breathy. My ego wants to leave, just to piss him off, but every cell in my body is screaming for me to stay. So I give in and, by pulling him back into me with a fistful of his shirt, I hope like hell it's clear to him that he's not _making _me stay anywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 19**

The hotel room is still dark in the morning, thanks to the thick snow clouds outside. As I watch the storm through blurred, sleepy eyes, the memories start coming back. The warmth of his skin, the weight of his body on mine, the smell of his hair and the taste of his lips…

Aaron is asleep on his side, facing me. I study his face, wanting to make this his fault somehow, to take the pressure off myself. He invited me in here. He knows if he challenges me, I'll never back down. I can't. Especially not when I'm half drunk. I always thought I knew the line between stubborn and crazy, but apparently lines blur after a mini bar's worth of whiskey.

For a second I wonder how many more of me there's been. He doesn't seem like the type, but I have no idea. I know he was married, and they divorced before the whole Boston Reaper fiasco.

I close my eyes, trying to forget all the horrible details that spring into my thoughts. I was there, helping JJ coordinate with the Boston media. A few months later, when Haley was killed, it spread around the entire Bureau like wildfire. Everyone knew some version of what happened.

Watching him sleep, I find myself wondering how he feels about all this. How he feels about me. I want to know what he knows. I want to know what he's figured out, what he hasn't. He obviously knows how to push my buttons, but does he really have any idea who I am? Where I come from?

I can hear beeping somewhere, and it's a few minutes before I realize it's my phone, which is still somewhere at the end of the bed. I sit up, pinning one of the blankets between my chest and my knees.

The room is cold. I hadn't realized until the air hit my back but the room is _really _cold. The last thing I want to do now is go get my phone, or my clothes, which are unfortunately all in the same general area. Surveying everything, I realize the blanket I'm holding has come loose from the others. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I pull it out and throw it over myself so I can lean over the end of the bed and fish out my phone.

I swear quietly when all I see is the low battery message. I swear one more time as I switch it to silent and throw it back in my purse.

Aaron moves and I look back at him. He turns onto his back and his eyes open slowly. He blinks a few times, looks at the spot where I was lying previously, and then finds me at the end of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he mumbles groggily, trying and failing to prop himself up on his elbow.

"My phone was beeping. Turns out it's just dying. And it's freezing in here," I add, indicating the blanket.

"Want me to turn the heater up?" he asks as I lie back down next to him.

"No, it's fine." I cover a yawn with my hand and a fistful of the blanket.

"Alright," he says, having never moved a muscle. I smile. For a moment when he looks at me, nothing feels different. Then he looks away and I don't know what to say or do next.

"Aaron," I finally say softly. He turns to look at me, and I reach across the space between us to rake my nails lightly over his arm. He says nothing. I use his arm to pull myself forward to kiss him.

"What was that for?" he asks when I pull away.

"Just…testing something." His hand finds my back, and a chill follows his fingers down my spine.

When my eyes open again, he's looking at me like he isn't sure what the hell is going on, either, and I actually feel better. I kiss him once more, quickly, and trace the edge of his lower lip with my finger. He pulls my hand away and kisses my wrist. I smile, kiss him again, and slip my arms around his neck.

"What's wrong with us?" I finally mumble into his jaw. He laughs quietly, still half-asleep.

"I don't know." I press a small kiss to his jaw and sit up.

"What time is it?" he asks.

"I have _no _idea." I run my hands through my hair and lean over him a little. I can just make out the dull red numbers on the clock over his shoulder.

"It's almost nine-thirty. Jesus, I need to go back to sleep." He nods and runs his hands over his face and through his hair. "I really do need to go this time. If I stay too much longer everyone's gonna be up and well…I should go," I say, sliding out of the bed. I throw my clothes back on and pull my jacket closed around my waist. I can't even imagine how awkward things would be if someone realized where I was all night.

"Okay. Um, I'll let you know as soon as I hear about the flight out." I nod. I turn around to see he's up and half dressed. The mood is completely nonexistent now, and I feel weird again.

"See you later," I say, heading for the door. I check the peephole and, upon seeing an empty hall, I slip outside. The door lock clicks behind me, and I go quickly to my room, my key already in my hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 23**

The three days following our return from Minneapolis were among the longest three in my life. For the first time since beginning my job in Quantico, a ringing phone was met with less fear and more hope. I spent two of the three days in the gym, walking my dogs at a park by the river, and driving all over Northern Virginia. Over the weekend I avoided working at all costs, opting instead to explore the Blue Ridge Parkway and drink a lot of wine.

There's not much worse than getting semi-drunk off wine, alone.

I'd been too busy and spent too many hours of the day surrounded by people to notice how truly alone I was out here. Despite being closer to the place where I grew up and having a best friend working an hour away in DC, I was alone. Period. There was no way to spin it to make it seem not so bad, because I definitely tried-more than once. It hit me when I finally separated from the rest of the team at the airstrip. It hit me when I finally mumbled a good-bye to Aaron that morning, and came home to an empty apartment, save for my dogs.

But as much as I loved them, it wasn't the same. They couldn't talk back to me. They couldn't understand what kind of job I was doing, where I was all day when I left them.

It wasn't until I woke up the morning after sleeping with Aaron that I realized what I was missing out on. And while the rational part of my brain knows that a one night stand with my boss is not the kind of companionship I need, I still feel like it fulfilled a part of me that has been missing over the last few months.

He's what I need. He watches over his team with such confidence, but he looks at me like he can't figure me out. At first I wasn't sure where the power struggle between us came from, but now I know. I was suppressing an attraction to him from day one. And whether he knew it then or not-judging by Wednesday night-he was doing the same. It's that kind of engaging, back and forth relationship that I love.

That doesn't make it any less of a bad idea. Aaron is my boss, and the FBI doesn't allow relationships between coworkers. The fact that he's my _boss _just makes it worse. If anyone had any idea about what went on, we could both lose our jobs. And it absolutely could not happen again…

The elevator jerks to a stop and distracts me from the thoughts swirling in my head. The motion is a little less jarring than before, when I first began working here, as I get used to using it everyday.

As I step onto the sixth floor, I know forgetting and moving on is going to be much easier said than done. I feel my self-control slip several notches when my eyes wander across the bullpen to Aaron's office door. Distraction comes in quick hello's with Reid and Emily, but before I know it my eyes are pointedly dancing around his office in an effort to avoid it.

I dump my things in the chair by my door and open all the blinds. A grey November light pours in, and for a minute I just stand in the center of the room, staring outside. After the slightly inconvenient but beautiful snowstorm in Minnesota, the rain clouds gathering over Quantico are just depressing.

Slowly, I begin to unpack my laptop and the files I'd taken home to work on but never touched. I move things around the desk, absentmindedly trying to organize the chaos as much as possible. The first round of folders sit ominously in the center. I feel as if they're glaring at me. Sighing, I get up with my coffee and go to stand in front of the window.

"Gabby."

I spin around, almost losing my balance. Aaron stands in the door. Upon meeting his eyes the butterflies in my stomach immediately jump to my chest and throat.

"Hey. Good morning." I smile as best I can, but accidentally crack the plastic lid on my coffee.

"Good morning." My brain goes fuzzy, then blank. My knowledge of the English language leaves me, although I have the odd feeling that I could speak to him perfectly in French right now.

"I-uh-did you have a-a good weekend?" I manage to stutter out, swallowing more coffee just for something to do, hoping it doesn't leak out.

"Yeah. I did. Did you?" I nod, a little more vigorously than necessary.

"Yes. Yes, I did." I smile again.

"I need a copy of the press release from the other day. Mine never made it to my desk."

"Oh. Sure. I need to do a little digging for it but, um, as soon as I can I'll make a copy and, uh, send it your way." He nods once.

"Thanks. I need it before nine."

"Not a problem."

"Thank you." We lock eyes again. I know I'm doing an awful job of keeping cool, compared to his typically perfect façade. Although maybe today it isn't a façade. Maybe he doesn't actually feel anything, and this is all in my head. He seems to realize he's lingered a little too long so he clears his throat and leaves abruptly. I just continue to stand there, holding my coffee idly at my stomach.

"Hey, Gabby." Emily pops in the door seconds after Aaron exits it.

"Hey…Emily." My smile comes more easily, and I relax a little, but as soon as her smile appeared it disappears.

"You alright?" I nod.

"I'm fine." I shake my head. "Just having a little trouble clearing out the weekend cobwebs." I smile again, hopefully more reassuringly. "I'm fine." She seems to buy it, and shrugs.

"Alright. Just checking. You looked a little…never mind." She shakes her head. "Do you still have the original police report for the Hawthorn case?"

"I do….somewhere."

"Could you e-mail me the crime scene details from the first murder? I need them to finish my paperwork." I nod.

"Sure. No problem." She smiles.

"Thanks." She starts to leave, but turns back, her hand on the door frame. "Hey."

"Huh?" I swing my head in her direction, having turned to my desk in an attempt to look busy.

"Keep drinking that stuff." She points at my cup. "Morgan makes really good coffee. If you catch him in the break room have him fix you some." I cock my head to the side a little, unsure, and she smiles. "I'm serious. I dunno what he does to it, but you'll be fully functioning in no time." I smile a little.

"Thanks, Emily." She nods.

"You're welcome."

Aaron's office door is open when I reach it. He's on the phone with his back to me, facing the window, so I rest my shoulder against the door frame. He turns around about three seconds later, nodding his acknowledgement of my presence and mouthing for me to hold on.

"I have to go see Strauss. What do you need?"

"Strauss is gonna have to wait. I need everyone together _now_."

"A hostage situation at Ferry Pass Middle School in Pensacola, Florida. At least four armed men entered the school just after eleven this morning, wearing masks and hoods over their heads. The FBI's choice negotiator is waiting to hear from agents on the scene before he flies in. Authorities want our input on the un-subs so they can end this as quickly as possible." Looks of disbelief ripple around the table,

"At least four men?" Rossi asks. I nod.

"That they know of, yes." Everyone is silent. "We're looking at about nine hundred students," I say finally, "and about sixty staff members. Shots were fired upon entering but so far, there have been no reported injuries. Parts of the building have managed to evacuate, about five hundred of them. The men came in and quieted everyone pretty quickly just by waving their assault rifles around."

"That'll do it," Morgan mumbles. I nod.

"Have the hostage-takers tried to contact anyone?" Aaron asks. I shake my head.

"No. At the moment things are relatively calm. We'll be working alongside a few agents from negotiations in Chicago and agents from the Jacksonville field office. Jacksonville will be there when we arrive."

"So we have no motive?" Emily asks.

"Not yet, but the chief of police is on site and he's going to call with any developments while we're on our way."

"Does the school have any kind of surveillance system in place?"

"It's fairly low tech, but yes."

"We need to get the feed to Garcia," Aaron says. "She can get to work on identifying the un-subs." I nod.

"Sure thing."

"Everyone get your things together and let's meet at the airstrip in half an hour."


	7. Chapter 7

**Day 23, part 2**

"Okay, kiddies. Chris Hardwick. Grade A, professional asshole. We have charges including, but not limited to, animal cruelty, fighting, and drugs. His mom kicked him out when he was seventeen. In a social services interview she said he had a short temper and seemed. Un. Stable. Uhhh…he spent three years in weapons training with the Army but failed a psych eval. " Garcia spits out all the information in rapid succession, typing furiously all the while. "Sounds like your typical psycho jerk to me."

"What did his mother mean by 'unstable?'" Morgan asks.

"Ummm…it says here he was 'prone to tantrums,' and was quick to take others' actions 'personally.' He lashed out at her frequently, accusing her of chasing off his dad, and blaming her for his foul mood…. He never hit her, but would throw and punch things in his tantrums and she was afraid that was the next step. So she asked him to leave."

"What did he do to fail his evaluation?" I ask curiously.

"He showed extremely malicious leanings and little evidence of remorse or compassion. The shrink even went so far as to say he might classify Hardwick as borderline sociopath…. Oh! And last year, he was found unconscious in an apartment he shared with a friend. His blood alcohol level was _through the roof_, and he was put in the hospital psych ward for three days and then moved to a six week inpatient rehab facility. Oh," she sounds disappointed, "he was back in the hospital for another detox right after his release." I shake my head.

"And lemme guess, they kept him for another three days and let him walk?"

"Right on, sugar. According to his doctor, he expressed interest in another rehab stint, and since this doctor didn't know about the rest of his history, he reported that there was no reason to believe Hardwick was a danger to anyone."

"How about himself?" Emily asks.

"Why does everyone always say that despite all these _glaring _warning signs, there was no reason to believe a crazy person would do something _crazy_?" I ask, looking up from the phone at the others. Emily just shrugs and shakes her head, mouth open like she was going to answer but couldn't find the words.

"Anything else, Garcia?" Morgan asks.

"Not yet, but if I find anything I'll let you know." He nods.

"Thank you, honey. Hey, wait, one other thing. Where's Hardwick's dad?" Garcia pauses.

"I haven't been able to figure that out yet. He's on the birth certificate but I can't find another record of him. I'm looking, though."

"Okay. Call us when you find out."

"Not a problem. Peace out, kids." There's a click, and everyone just looks at each other.

"I'll call Hotch," Morgan says finally, puling out his cell phone and leaving the trailer. Reid wanders over to the bulletin board, studying the maps and pictures. I glance at Emily, who's just staring at the phone.

"It always seems to happen that way, doesn't it," she says, looking up at me. "They have all these mental problems and then when they finally snap, everyone wonders what happened. The signs were there, but there was no reason to think he'd actually _do _something stupid." I nod.

"Think of how many lives could be saved if people stopped letting everyone fall through the cracks." She shakes her head.

"I need coffee. Want some?"

"Sure. Thanks. I'm gonna go find Morgan."

I ended up between Reid and Aaron at dinner, but it wasn't the reason I kept my mouth shut all evening long. With the rest of the team thrilled and relieved to have avoided the potential disaster today could have been, I was just tired, and I wanted to forget about it. School shootings were my absolute least favorite thing in the world.

It didn't help that I was on Aaron's left side, and his being left-handed and my being right meant we were pretty much in constant contact for the duration of the meal.

"You speak Arabic?" I ask Emily over the top of my wine glass, catching part of a conversation she's having with Rossi. She nods.

"I lived in the Middle East for a little while when I was growing up."

"That's…pretty awesome," I say, smiling a little for the first time in hours. "I've never met anyone who speaks Arabic."

"She's also fluent in Spanish and Italian," Reid says.

"Gees. I think I have some catching up to do." Emily smiles.

"Didn't you say you speak French?" Reid asks. Leave it to Reid to remember or sort of remember everything I've ever said to him. My being bilingual was brought up in a thirty second conversation when he saw a French book I had.

"I do."

"So between the two of you we've _almost _got all the major languages covered." Emily and I exchange amused looks.

"How did you learn it?" she asks.

"My mother was French, born and raised. I've been speaking French and English interchangeably since…well, since I could speak at all, I guess. I'm not all that good at languages, though. I tried taking Spanish a couple of times and I know about five words."

"So are you like, one of those people who starts yelling in your second language if you get mad?" Morgan asks. Laughing, I nod.

"I have been known to do it on occasion, yeah." Everyone kind of laughs, and the conversation trails off into the clinks and clatters of silverware and glasses.

Rossi is the first to speak, saying something about how Aaron showed up the negotiation specialist. I reach out to set my glass down, and the back of my hand brushes the back of Aaron's as it rests on the table. Out of the corner of my eye I can see he turns his head in my direction, but I won't look up. Instead I pull Reid into conversation, continuing a previous discussion of a book I was reading on the flight earlier. Aaron continues talking to Rossi, and I relax a little.

"You alright? You were awfully quiet earlier." Hotch slides into the seat across from me and I pull the headphones from my ears. I smile a little in the dim light coming from above us. The rest of the cabin is dark. Everyone fell asleep an hour ago.

"I'm fine." He gives me a second look, and I hold his gaze despite the overwhelming urge to look away. "Just because I wasn't the center of attention all night long doesn't mean anything's wrong."

"That might be true if I was talking to someone else. If you're not going to talk to me, at least find someone else to talk to." I bite the inside of my lip. A few moments pass as I stare into the black window, and I sigh.

"Alright. Alright. You wanna know why I pushed so hard during this case?"

"We could start there." I sigh again, playing with the sparkling silver class ring on my right hand ring finger.

"I lost a friend in the Virginia Tech shooting." I shake my head, partly in disbelief that I'm about to cry already, and partly because anytime this gets brought up, it still doesn't feel real. "Amber. I was her babysitter for years growing up. She was such an amazing girl." I take a deep breath, blinking back tears. "I guess I just…wanted to prevent that kind of pain from happening to another community," I say with a shrug.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. I shrug again.

"It's…it's over now. It's been four and a half years, I-she was like a little sister to me, you know? And it just…I flew from Boston for some candle light services on campus with a few friends from home. If we didn't lose someone we knew people who did." My voice cracks and I close my eyes. "I knew exactly how those people felt today, Aaron. The second I heard about the shootings…the panic is completely overwhelming. It's awful."

"You did good work today. You helped save a lot of lives." I smile a little.

"Thanks." Other than the sound of the plane, there's silence. I reach for my purse and pull out my wallet. In one of the zipper pockets is a small, worn piece of paper and two ribbons.

"Her picture, from a program at one of the services. And they were handing out little ribbons like these. I have a bunch of them." I lay the paper with Amber's name and picture on the table between us, next to the ribbon. Aaron picks them up and looks from the picture to me.

"She looks like you." I smile.

"A little." He smiles, too, and sets them back on the table. I fold my fingers around them and drop my hand next to his.

"I really am sorry. It's never easy, losing someone." I shake my head.

"That's for sure." His hand moves to cover mine. "How long have we been in the air?" He turns my hand in his to check his watch.

"About an hour." Outside the sky is beginning to lighten.

"I think I'm gonna try to get some sleep before we land."

"Sounds like a good idea." I pull my hand away slowly. I want to say something. I feel like I need to say something, but I can't find the words. There are no words. Nothing that can be said here, at least, in danger of someone hearing. So he sits back in his seat, and I turn my iPod back on, drape my blanket over my shoulders, and close my eyes to him. I try to forget he's there, but I can't, and I don't sleep for the rest of the two hour flight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Day 37**

Trips to the hotel gyms in the evening are becoming a habit of mine. I have always been a bit of a gym rat, but the last few weeks found me in the best shape I've been in in a while. Occasionally I run into Derek on the way in or out, but it's almost always Aaron that I overlap with.

I always have my iPod on. Aaron never has music. If the TV is on, he'll watch the news or ESPN or even one night someone had left HBO on, and even I took out my headphones to watch _Young Guns_. He was surprised that I knew the movie as well as I did. I was amused that we both agreed the first one was five hundred times better than the second.

Tonight, in Tempe, Arizona, I skip the gym. After finishing our case with unusually happy results, the team decided to stay in town for the night. We've been run ragged for almost a week, and none of us want to hop back on a plane for however many hours just yet. Part of the team went to dinner, Aaron and Rossi disappeared individually, and I went to meet a friend who relocated to Tempe and I haven't seen since.

I return to the hotel just past ten. The lobby is silent and still, and my flip flops echo on the tile floors. I see no one on my way to my room. There are no messages on my Blackberry as I turn the corner from the elevator, so I slip it into my back pocket.

"Hey, look who it is." There is a small room around the next turn, with ice machines, food, and drinks. I'm desperate for a diet soda, so I decide to stop on the way to my room. Upon opening the door, Aaron turns to face me.

"Hey," he says, with the first genuine smile I've seen on his face in a while. "You guys just get back?"

"Oh, I didn't go to dinner. I don't know where they are." I flatten a dollar bill on the edge of a soda machine. "What have you been doing all night?"

"Work." I raise an eyebrow over my shoulder at him. "I took some time off to talk to Jack for a while," he says, noting my expression.

"Well that's good." The machine finally accepts my dollar, and a Diet Coke drops to the bottom. Aaron is waiting with the door open.

"Where did you go, if you didn't go with the others?" he asks as I slip through ahead of him.

"Um…" I pause, stopping in the middle of the hallway to open my drink. "This is going to sound weird. To be honest, I'm not even sure why I went, other than it sounded better than sitting around here." He's looking at me oddly, and I'm sure I sound crazy. I'm also not sure why I'm about to have this conversation with him, of all people. "I, uh, went to see an ex-boyfriend." His expression doesn't change much. I think I see his eyebrows lift a little, but that's it.

"You actually know someone out here?" I smile.

"Believe it or not, yeah. We went to school together, and then he came out here for a job." Aaron just nods kind of robotically, and I laugh a little. "I told you it was going to sound weird. It's a long story, I was just bored and we're still friends, I guess. If you count checking in with each other once every few months friends, I-never mind. Sorry, this is weird."

"No, it's fine. You're not confined to be here at all times. What you do with your free time is up to you."

"I know. But, trying to explain to you my relationship with a guy I dated a long time ago is…weird." I look up to meet his eyes, half wishing I could rewind the last few minutes and skip this altogether. "We'd done a pretty good job of ignoring this until now." Aaron nods. I sigh. The memories and emotions I've been suppressing have returned in tsunami waves, and I find myself examining his eyes with curiosity and the possible willingness to recreate the memories and emotions once more.

"If, uh, if we need to just walk away from what happened, and forget about it, then that's what we'll do."

"We should." I nod.

He's still standing in the little space before the vending room becomes the hallway. With two steps, I close the space so we are both out of sight of anyone coming our way. Dropping my bag and my soda bottle at our feet, my hands meet his shoulders. I pull him down as I stretch onto my tip toes and push my lips gently to his.

I pull back after a couple seconds, meeting his brown eyes. He's looking straight back when my eyes fall shut again and he pulls me in with an arm around my waist.

For the first time all week, my hotel room opens on the first try. My purse and soda are discarded by the door, which I barely get locked before Aaron's kissing the back of my neck. I step out of my jeans half way across the room, and my t-shirt drops next to the bed on top of his.

Tangled in a knot of sheets and limbs, I lay in the middle of the wrong end of the bed, staring at the ceiling. The heater hums in the corner, but I can still hear Aaron's breathing next to me. My brain is running miles a minute. The previous assumption that Aaron and me sleeping together was nothing but an alcohol-induced, quick fix emotional patch to the things we'd been through in the days before suddenly made no sense. If I could completely willingly throw myself in bed with him without a drop of alcohol, in normal circumstances, then what the hell is going on?

"Aaron?"

"Hmm?" I turn a little so I can see his face.

"Could we…could we try to talk about this?" Talking is a fundamental part of how I operate. It helps me work out problems and feelings, and get a better idea of what's going on in my head. I have yet to talk about this with anyone, and it's running me into circles and twisting my brain into knots.

"I think we need to."

"Maybe we should actually try doing what we need to this time." He smiles just the smallest bit.

"Gabby," he pries when I say nothing else.

"I had made excuses for last time. I made excuses that, somewhere in my crazy head, made sense. And… they don't work anymore. None of them." I sigh. "I need to understand this." Aaron looks at me quizzically.

"I wouldn't mind understanding you a little better." I raise an eyebrow.

"I know I come off as anything goes, but…everything I do is pretty well thought out, believe me. This, however, has been thought about from every angle possible and I still don't know…" I trail off and turn over so I'm lying on my stomach, propped up by my elbows. Aaron's eyes are still on my face as I chew on my thumbnail.

"You need a lot of self control to-"

"Seem like I have none? Yeah." A few moments go by in silence. "I guess this technically isn't even allowed, is it."

"It's…not encouraged, but there's not a written rule about it." I nod.

"Still, I guess it's probably best that we keep this to ourselves."

"Probably." As practical as this conversation is, it isn't solving what I need solved. I need to know why it happened again, and why he rattles me so much. There was no denying how attractive I found him, which just confused me more because he was definitely not my type.

"Let me just trying being honest here, how about that." I'm failing to hold back a smile, unable to ignore how ridiculous this sounds. "If I…if this continues, I'm gonna start having feelings for you. Period. I don't do this kind of thing for no reason, and I guess that's what's confusing me so much about it." Aaron is doing a lot of quiet thinking. Every time I look at him I can see the wheels turning, and I find myself wishing, for the hundredth time, that he wouldn't be so careful with everything he says.

"You know, I've never had a one-night stand." The rare moment of personal honesty from him has me reeling, while the full weight of the statement crushes the hilarity of hearing Aaron Hotchner talk about a one-night stand. As I'm considering my reply, something hits me.

"Actually, neither have I." Our eyes meet, and I can't read him. The inexplicable urge to laugh presents itself once more, but I swallow it. "I guess…there truly is a first for everything." _Or, this is something else entirely_.

"I feel like I need to throw a personal detail out there now," I say after a long pause.

"You don't." I rest my head on my arms, looking at him next to me. Our faces are even now, and close together. His eyes don't leave mine. Whenever he looks at me, at any given moment, in any given place, I have the constant sensation that he's trying to read my mind.

"I'm not sure I want this to stop." The sentence is barely finished before he kisses me. The electric shocks run through my body, and I forget everything. He says something as I push him over, back onto his back, but I'm not listening. The fog is closing in, blocking out everything that isn't him and me. I know now that, whatever kind of mess it may cause, and however complicated it becomes, I _don't _want it to stop.

"Let's not make any decisions just yet," Aaron says into my shoulder blade later. I nod against the pillow.

"Fine." I turn over, and he presses a few kisses to my lower ribs.

"I'm gonna go, before everyone's up in a few hours."

"Okay." He slides to eye level. I smile and go to kiss his neck, and the little hollow in the middle of his collar bone. As his lips meet mine after only a second or two, it strikes me again how he seems to be much more inclined to be on the giving end of everything rather than the receiving. I chase the observation away, knowing if I look the slightest bit too pensive he'll say something.

"I'll see you in the morning," he murmurs against my mouth as he slide out of the covers. Dressed, he flashes me one more smile before slipping out the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 41**

"Are you kidding me?"

"What?" Aaron looks up from his desk in confusion.

"You're still here?"

"You say that like you're not happy to see me." He tries but fails to hide a smirk.

"Yeah, well, you spend eleven hours with someone…." I can't quell my laughter long enough to finish. "Whatever, I came to give you this, and now I'm leaving."

"Oh, thanks."

"There's only twenty-four hours in a day, you know. You going for a record or something? See how long you can spend here at once?"

"Do you forget I'm unit chief? I don't just order you all around and call it a day." He sounds serious, but his smile reaches all the way into his eyes. "I have a lot of work to do."

"Um, do you wanna see the seventy-five requests I've received this week?" I ask, unfolding my arms and pointing in the direction of my office. He laughs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. Really, I do. Five more minutes, and I'm out of here." I nod my satisfaction, taking a step back.

"Good. If you're still in this office when I finish closing up mine, I will come back and kick your ass." I narrow my eyes in what's supposed to be a threatening way, and he just laughs.

"Sure you will."

"You underestimate me!" I call on my way out.

I'm laughing as I reach my office. Being reminded that Aaron's sense of humor really does exist is nice, even if it is probably just a product of his lack of sleep. Still, his few and far between moments of levity are refreshing.

I throw my stuff haphazardly into my bag. I leave my files where they were, turn off my lamp and laptop, and lock the door behind me. Down the hall, I can still see the smallest bit of light under an office door.

"Aaron!" I stop in the door way, my arms folded.

"I'm finished. I just signed the last one." I grin.

"Good. You want me to wait? I'll walk out with you."

"Sure." I wait inside the door. Where I left my papers and pens where I last had them, Aaron stacks and files everything perfectly. And he's still ready faster than I was.

"Where are you parked?" he asks as we head for the elevators. I sigh.

"Far, faaaar away." He smiles, and we step into the elevator.

**Day 42**

"You're here early." I turn around at the front doors of headquarters to see Aaron approaching behind me.

"I'm here the same time I always am. _You're _late."

"Am I?" He checks his watch. "I didn't even realize." He looks tired as he follows me into the building.

"Rough morning?" He nods. "Sorry."

"It's fine. You always come in this early?" I smile.

"It's not that early. You're usually here before me." He seems to consider this as I press the button for the elevator up.

"Have you chosen the case for this morning?" he asks after a minute.

"Yeah. It's local. We can all sleep at home for once."

"Good. Bring it to my office when we get up there."

"No problem." We stop on the third floor to let someone off, and it's just the two of us left. "Are you alright?" I ask. "You look like you need about a gallon of coffee."

"I do. I'm fine. Jack threw a fit about school. Then he let his rabbit out of its cage and I couldn't get it out from under the bed. That's why I'm late. I learned the hard way the rabbit can't be left loose all day." I start to grin, although I feel bad for it.

"I can only imagine _that _homecoming." He makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. I smile. "Go make some coffee. I'll have the case on your desk when you're done," I say as we step off onto the sixth floor.

"I will. Thanks." I actually get a smile back, and we split in separate directions.

"Did I see smiles off the elevator earlier?" Derek is standing in the doorway of my office, that teasing smile of his firmly planted on his face. I laugh a little.

"Yeah, you might have."

"Well what the hell did you say to him because he's been biting heads off ever since." I shrug.

"We were just talking. Nothing in particular. Don't look at me like that." He raises an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

"Like I…did something wrong. Just because I'm not afraid of him or something." Derek starts to smile.

"I think that puts you in a very exclusive club." I grin.

"Do I get a card and a secret password?" He laughs a little, but his expression turns thoughtful, and he studies my face carefully.

"No, but I think maybe I underestimated you."

"You wouldn't be the first." He smiles again.

"I tell you what, you show me you can actually shoot an MP5, and you get a jacket along with the card and password." I laugh.

"Anytime, Morgan. I'll meet you at the range after work today, if you want." Shaking his head, he turns to leave.

"We'll see about that."

"You're just afraid I know how to use it better than you do!" I call after him, laughing to myself as I drop into the chair behind my desk. I continue to smile a little as I start up my computer. There was a new respect in Derek's eyes that I hadn't seen before. One at a time, it was almost starting to feel like I was less of a filler, and more of a legitimate member of the team.

**Day 50**

"Gabby?" I open my eyes. Aaron climbs into the front seat of the Tahoe and closes the door.

"Hey."

"Were you asleep?" he asks curiously. I shake my head.

"No. Just waiting for you so we can get the hell out of here." I rest my head back on the window. He doesn't move. I can feel his eyes on my face, so I look up again.

"What's wrong." His voice is without inflection, and his eyes run over my face.

"I'm just tired. I want to get back on the plane so I can sleep the whole way home." I can see right away that he doesn't buy it.

"There's something else." I swallow and fold my arms over my stomach.

"No, there's nothing else." A rather determined look crosses Aaron's face as I look away, staring through the windshield.

"You hate for people to see you down. Everything you're doing right now, the way you're sitting, is closing yourself off. When you're anything other than happy and outgoing you shut down and coast until you can get away from us." I glance at him from the corner of my eye. I do not enjoy being profiled.

"I told you, I'm exhausted. It's been an awful week, and I just want to go home."

"And I'm telling you that from experience, bottling yourself up when it comes to the things you see in this job is not a good idea."

"Who the hell am I going to talk to about it, Aaron? No one outside this job would understand, and no one inside it wants to talk about it anymore than they have to. In case you haven't noticed, your entire team is _really _good at bottling themselves up. I don't know if you're trying to-to keep me from becoming one of you all, or something, but I don't want to talk about it." He doesn't say anything at first, and I sigh.

"This is why I shut off," I say quietly. "Because if I don't, someone's head is going to be bitten off."

"You know what, I am trying to keep you from becoming like us. Is that such a bad thing?" I shake my head.

"No. It's not." I sigh again and close my eyes for a moment. "It just…it starts to add up, you know? You think you're good, that you're handling it alright, and then I see a case like this. And it all goes wrong. And I think, 'how in the world is anyone supposed to handle this?' And then I start thinking about everything I have to do when I get back, all the other cases I have to look at. And what am I gonna do about the next one, and the next one, and the next one. It's more overwhelming than any of you realize, because now I'm stuck with wondering if the cases I turn away should have been given a chance. If we could have solved them any better than this one." I close my eyes again, and leave them closed. Aaron reaches out and lays his hand on my shoulder.

"You've done an incredible job, Gabby. No one here expects you to be perfect. And I'd be more afraid if you weren't upset by what happened today than if you are."

"Thanks. It-it means a lot, that you think I'm doing a good job."

"I know I don't hand out compliments very often, and I know I'm telling you to do something that I'm not good at myself, but I like to think I know what I'm talking about." I turn to look at him head on. I would smile if I thought I could, but I feel as if I can barely hold my head up.

"I don't-I don't have anyone to talk to about this. Anyone outside of the team. I mean, I complain to my dogs sometimes, but they usually just drop a toy at my feet and stare at me until I throw it back." Aaron doesn't smile.

"You can talk to me. Anytime." I nod and settle back into my seat. He starts the car, and I reach for my seatbelt. I glance at him as we pull onto the main road.

"Good lord, Aaron, it takes two damn seconds to put on your seatbelt." He laughs softly. I close my eyes at the sound of the belt clicking into place.


	10. Chapter 10

**Day 55, Part 1**

"Hey. Gabby." I turn from the break room table with my coffee in my hand to see Derek standing in the door. "There's a man here saying he needs to see you."

"Who?" I ask, eyebrows raised. He has an odd look on his face, and he glances at the others in the room-Aaron, Emily, and Reid-before answering.

"He says he's your father." My hand begins to shake, and I quickly set my coffee on the table before I drop it.

"My…father?" He nods. "Oh, dear Lord," I say under my breath.

"He's in the conference room." He steps aside to let me through. I take several deep breaths before walking forward, wondering what in the hell my father could possibly want that's so important he had to come all the way to Quantico.

"You okay?" Derek asks, walking beside me. "You look like you just saw the ghost of one." I snort.

"Something like that, yeah. I'm fine."

Through the conference room door I can see what is unmistakably the back of my father's head. It's a picture I have burned into my brain, that particular shade of gray hair peeking out over the top of his recliner in the living room. I pause to take a deep breath and hopefully get a hold of my self.

"Ga-" I cut Derek off with my hand on his chest as I open the door.

"I'm fine; I've got this," I say. "Dad?"

"Gabriella, thank God!" he says, standing up so fast he almost knocks the chair over. "I've been callin' all day." I realize my Blackberry isn't in my pocket like it usually is, and make a mental note to check it when I go back to my office.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"You help local police solve crimes, right? Isn't that what you told me?" I nod slowly, glancing at Derek.

"In essence, yes. Why?"

"A very good friend of mine is missing. Roxy Brenneman. I told the police but they're not doin' anything an' they're not gonna until she ends up dead in the street like the others." I raise an eyebrow.

"Others?" He nods.

"The other women who've gone missin' in Charlottesville. They disappear an' a few days later turn up downtown." The look of sheer panic in his eyes is throwing me off balance. I've never seen my father this emotional about anything in my life. "The cops've no idea what's goin' on. They keep sayin' they do but they haven't caught anyone. Gabriella, I reported her missing this morning and she was already gone for a whole day she doesn't have much time left." I sigh.

"Dad, I would love to help but I can't just-the BAU has to be invited into a case. We can't just barge in and take over, you know that. I'm sorry but there's nothing we can really do, I mean-" I turn to Derek, at a loss for what to say next. "-I guess we could look into it but we don't have jurisdiction…" He shrugs.

"Yeah, unless they ask for help there's really nothing we can do," he says, looking sympathetically from me to my father. "We only get jurisdiction if we're invited, or the case involves more than one state."

"But there has to be something you can do; you're the FBI!" He looks so helpless and I feel awful. "Gabriella, please." I open my mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Derek," I say quietly, turning away from my father. "Derek, I need to talk to you. Outside." He looks confused but he follows me towards the door. "We'll be right back."

"What is it?" he asks when we're out of earshot.

"I think I got this case. About a week ago. I-I considered it, but then we got the Davenport case and…I was checking up on it, while we were in Davenport and they kept talking like they almost had someone so I guess I just assumed they were getting somewhere and I forgot about it."

"Yeah, but Gabby, we don't even know if this woman is involved. People go missing everyday." I nod.

"I know, but it's possible, isn't it? And even if it's unrelated it still gives us a chance to look into her disappearance and rule her out, right?" He nods.

"That's true." I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

"I need to look at the file again. I guess-do me a favor?" He nods. "Ask Hotch to come find me in my office? I need to look for this file."

"Sure."

"Thank you. I guess I should go tell my father to say put…" I add, rolling my eyes.

"Gabby," Derek says, catching my arm as I start to walk away. "Are you sure you're alright?" I nod, thought not altogether believing myself.

"I'm okay. It just kind of threw me for a loop, is all. My father and I have a…weird relationship. He makes me nervous, I guess." He looks at me for a long moment, then let's go.

"Alright, but if I think this is affecting you the wrong way or you're getting too close I _will _say something to Hotch." I nod.

"I wouldn't ask you to do anything different." He says nothing more and I run off in the direction of my office.

"Well, she definitely fits the type," Reid says, studying a picture my father gave me of Roxy Brenneman. Dark hair, dark eyes, mid-fifties, she looks exactly like the four other women connected to the case. "Does anyone know where she was last seen?"

"Her car was found in front of the Harris Teeter."

"What's the area like?" Aaron asks me. I shrug slowly.

"Umm…it's a pretty big place. A strip mall. In the daylight, I can't imagine someone not noticing a woman being kidnapped but at night… Barracks Road is right down the street from the University. It's also right down the street from some of the rougher neighborhoods in Charlottesville. I wouldn't want to hang out in that parking lot at night." I shrug again. "But it is, essentially, a strip mall. All the buildings are connected. There's a couple of little alleys, and separate sections in the middle of the lots, but Harris Teeter is in the middle of the main part."

"The other women were last seen at…a Food Lion, a mall, Wal-Mart, and…a pet store," Reid says, glancing at the open file for the last one.

"What pet store?" I ask.

"Pet Forum?" I bite my lip.

"What?" Aaron asks.

"Well it's like, 'which object doesn't fit.' They're all in the same general area except for Barracks Road. The other four are almost next door to each other." There's silence for a moment.

"What mall was, uh, Terry Cochran at?" Rossi asks.

"There's really only one, Fashion Square. There's what's called 'the downtown mall,' but it's mostly quirky little stores and restaurants. So if someone says the mall, that's the one they mean. They'll specify between it and the downtown mall," I explain. Another pause.

"We need more to go on before we can rule Roxy in or out. For now, I think it's safe to say she's a good candidate and we need to operate as if she's still alive and she's a part of this case. We also need to be on the look out for other missing person cases that could be involved," Aaron says, setting the paper in his hands down.

"When we land, I want Morgan and Prentiss to Roxy Brenneman's house. Dave and I will go to the station, and then I want to see the shopping center where her car was found. Gabby and Reid, I'd like you to start talking to the victims families. Start with the latest and work your way back, and then talk to your father. I want to know everything." Everyone nods their understanding and returns to their seats. I stay where I am, across from Aaron, and pick up Roxy's picture.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asks. I nod without taking my eyes off the picture.

"I'm fine."

"If this is a problem for you just say so." I shake my head.

"I'll be fine. I'm just…" I squint at the picture, studying her face. "He called her 'a very good friend.' I want to know what he means by that."

"What else would he mean?" I shrug, realizing how stupid it sounds.

"I don't know it's just…I can count on one hand the number of women I've seen my father speak to in my life, and almost all of them were related to him. I can count on the other hand the number of friends-close or otherwise-I've ever seen him associate with. This is just weird." Aaron doesn't say anything, which I'm glad for. I sigh and set the picture face down on top of the other papers.

"I'll be fine," I repeat, looking across at him. He nods, and my eyes float to the window. We're back underneath the clouds already. All I see bellow us is country side. Miles and miles of patchwork farm fields and ponds and little speckled herds of cattle. This is definitely not the homecoming I would have asked for.

My father has lived in the same house for over thirty years. It's a little two-story house on Cherry Avenue with concrete steps and a chain link fence enclosing a small, weedy yard. I haven't been here in a while, and it doesn't look much different. The big, diesel powered F-150 he uses to deliver furniture is parked in the small driveway, so we leave the Tahoe in the street along the sidewalk.

"We need to know everything you can tell us about Roxy, Dad." It's a surreal feeling to be sitting in my old living room, on my old couch, next to Reid. My dad sits across from us in his recliner, a cup of coffee in his hand. The inside of the house looks as familiar as the outside, but a little cleaner. More organized. When I was still living here, the place had kind of fallen apart.

No one would ever guess my father's age to be sixty-five. He was never much of a drinker outside of a few beers on the weekend, and some how managed to escape fifteen years in the United States Marine Corps a nonsmoker. He's a large man, still in decent shape, and it's mostly his hair that gives him away. Now a dark shade of steel, he'd had a lot more brown left when I was a teenager.

"Well," he begins in a low voice rumbling with the twang of a rural Georgia upbringing, "she's a talkative woman. Seems to know everybody. She's a nurse at Martha Jefferson-works with babies. She's got a son at Mary Washin'ton and a daughter down at Radford. She makes more money'n she pretends and she's very…she's a very strong woman. Knows what she wants, and doesn't let anyone take nothing from her. If someone took her…" He shakes his head. "She wouldn't've gone down without a fight." Silence follows his words. Every question I had prepared disappears, and I just stare at him.

"Did she always go to Harris Teeter?" Reid asks. My father nods.

"Always."

"Was it normal for her to go there early in the day?" He nods again.

"She usually works the day shift, and is out 'round two or three. If she needed to do grocery shopping, she did it afterwards. But they've got some kind of schedule shuffle goin' on, after the laid some nurses off and moved others around, so she's been workin' a little later this past week."

"What else did she do on Tuesdays?" I ask, finding my footing again. Today is Wednesday.

"Well, I think yesterday she wasn't goin' in 'til two, so she went to the grocery store and I dunno, ran other errands if she had 'em. I call her most mornings, and she didn't mention anything different yesterday. Just the grocery store."

"She lives alone?" He nods.

"When her kids are at school. She lives over off Virginia Avenue." Reid looks at me.

"You know it?" I nod.

"I do. It's like a mile away."

"Hey, Reid?" He stops at the door and turns to face me.

"Yeah?"

"Give me a second?" He nods.

"Sure. I'll wait by the car." I watch him descend the steps through the screen door. I hear my dad come in behind me, but I don't turn around.

"Gabriella," he says quietly, almost defeated. I turn slowly.

"I need to ask you something." He nods. I swallow. "What is Roxy to you?" He meets my eyes for the first time in my recent memory, and I hold his gaze.

"You're not a child anymore," he says as if I never said anything at all. "I guess it's only fair I stop treating you that way."

"I'd appreciate it." He sighs.

"She's not just a friend, Gabriella. I've been seeing her for a year." I nod.

"I figured it was something like that. Well, I'm sure I'll see you later." I turn to go. Through the screen I can see Reid waiting in the car out front.

"Gabriella, wait." I stop in the door way, looking at him from over my shoulder. "You're not upset?" I shrug.

"Why should I be? All I wanted you to do for a long time was find someone else. It only took you sixteen years. What I'm upset about is that you didn't tell me." He doesn't respond. "Like I said, I'll see you later." I jog down the steps and through the chain link gate, and slide into the car.

"They're dating," I say as Reid hands me the keys. "My dad and Roxy."

"How do you feel about that?" I smile a little, glancing over at him before I pull the car into the street.

"You don't have to play shrink, Reid, I'm alright. I'm not sure what pisses me off more-that he didn't tell me in the last year that they've been together, or that he's dating someone named _Roxy_." Reid looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or not. I shake my head and put the car in drive. "In either case, we have to find her."

"So it sounds like all of these women had pretty regular routines. All of them went missing during what was considered a normal errand for them," Derek says from his seat at the Charlottesville PD's conference table.

"Three were grocery shopping, one was leaving work, and the last goes to that pet store once a week." Rossi stands in front of the bulletin board, studying the pictures of the five women.

"So we're looking at a stalker?" I ask.

"I would say he most likely watches them, yes," Aaron says. "He's need-based with a very specific type. The span of time between victims certainly suggests that he's studying them. The time between disappearance and reappearance is only three days." He trails off and glances at me. We're fast approaching forty-eight hours. "Garcia's also looking for any possible connection between the women. We need to know how he's choosing them."

"Roxy works at Martha Jefferson. Tons of people go through there everyday." Aaron nods.

"Reid, I'd like you to start putting together a geographical profile. Focus on all three areas-where the victims live, where they were taken from, and where the bodies were found," Aaron says, walking away from me. "I think we're almost ready to give the profile."

"Where are the news articles?" I ask, sliding off the edge of the table. Derek tosses me a folder. "Thanks."

"What's the coverage look like?" he asks as I drop into a seat around the corner of the table from him. I glance through the newspaper clippings.

"Jesus. No wonder the city's panicking." I hand him a few of the pages.

"Gotta love local news."

"Nooo kidding."

"Agent Taylor, there's someone here to see you." One of the officers sticks his head into the conference room. I sigh.

"Isn't there always?" I excuse myself and follow him out.

"Gabby!" Leaning against the officer's desk is a short guy dressed casually in a UVA football t-shirt and jeans. I haven't seen him in years, but the grin on his face as he straightens up is exactly as I remember it. I smile.

"Hey, Jonathan." Jonathan Andrews graduated from the media studies program with me, and played football with a few of my friends. When I went to FBI training, he took a job with the Charlottesville news station. We were pretty good friends, but lost touch when we took separate career paths.

"Long time, no see. I didn't know you were out of Boston."

"It was a recent move. You're still with channel twenty-nine?" He nods.

"Yep. I was covering small stories for a while but your serial case has been my break. They're talking about giving me a seat on the six o'clock news."

"Congratulations." He smiles. "I'm guessing that's why you're here?" He nods.

"Yesterday, they were circulating a picture of a missing woman around the station. Roxy Brenneman? Word on the street is she and your father are rather close." There's a glint in his eyes that I don't like. There's always a glint in his eyes, like he knows something no one else does. He's that guy that's always ahead of the game and wants everyone to know about it.

"Maybe. Why do you wanna know?" He gives me a lopsided smirk.

"Oh, come on, Gabby. This would put me way over the top for this job. You gotta give it to me. As a friend?" I shake my head.

"Sorry. No."

"If you don't confirm it I'll find someone who will. Your dad, maybe?" I shake my head again.

"No," I repeat firmly, the smile leaving my face. "No. You can't release that."

"Gabby, Gabby, Gabby," his smile is faltering a little. "What's the big deal? So one of the victims has a connection to one of the agents on the case. It's just an interesting story point. It'll get passed right over."

"_No_." He sighs.

"Fine. Can you give me something else? Just a little detail?" I shake my head.

"Nope. Even if I wanted to my hands are tied, Jonathan. This is an ongoing investigation, you know we can't discuss it." He looks ticked off, his jaw clenched.

"Gabby." I spin around. Reid is headed in our direction. "Hotch needs you, when you finish." I nod.

"We're done here," I say, glancing at Jonathan. "I'm sure you understand, right?" He still looks pissed off but he nods and tries to smile.

"Of course. You're just doing your job. It was nice seeing you again, Gabby," he adds as I turn to go. "You look great." Reid gives me an odd look as we head back for the conference room.

"Who's that?"

"Local journalist. We went to school together. He just wanted an exclusive quote." Reid nods.

"Gabby, we need to start putting together a press conference," Aaron says the second I enter the room. "I want you to give the profile, as well as a warning to the women of the city. As soon as possible."

"Of course. But, um, we might have a small problem." He looks up from the papers in his hand. "Someone knows about my, um, connection? To Roxy."

"How."

"I don't know. I just spoke to an old friend of mine who's working at channel twenty-nine news. He's been covering the murders and he wanted me to confirm that it's my dad's girlfriend. I told him to squash it and he said he would but he's not happy. I don't entirely trust him. This story could get him a permanent seat on the evening news so he's pushing really hard and-"

"Gabby." I stop abruptly.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Contact him again, give him a front row seat to the press conference. See if that will satisfy him for now. If not, we'll deal with it in a more direct manner." I take a deep breath and nod.

"Alright. I'll uh, I'll start making calls about the press conference."


	11. Chapter 11

**Day 56, Part 2**

I'm barely away from the podium before Jonathan is in my face. Not in the mood, I try to brush him off with the other cameras, but he's not an easy person to just dismiss.

"Gabby, we need to talk." I come to a stop at the door.

"What is it."

"You have to let me break this story, Gabby." I roll my eyes.

"I don't think you get it, Jonathan. We have less than a day to get this one back alive. This is not the time to tell this guy he's got someone with a connection to the FBI. He-" Now Jonathan's eyes roll, before I can finish. I sigh. "He could kill her before we have time to find her." He's silent, considering the information. I can almost see a light beginning to dawn in his eyes, so I keep going.

"I swear, the next thing I need released to the public, I'll call you. It will be all yours, totally exclusive." Finally he nods.

"Alright. I'll keep my mouth shut. But I want your next story."

"Of course. I have your number now; you'll be the first one I call."

Morgan, Aaron, and I are the last ones back to the police station. In the low lights of the conference room, the white bandage on Morgan's forehead almost glows as he gathers files and tosses them into a box. Aaron is taking down the bulletin board, and I start to slowly re-file my news articles.

Rossi enters and says something to Morgan about his head. Aaron mumbles something, but I can't focus. The pictures from the clippings are swimming in front of my face. I close up the folders as quickly as my tired fingers will go.

"Gabby." I swear internally. Jonathan is not the person I want to see right now.

"Hi, Jonathan," I say, turning around.

"Don't sound so excited," he says, smirking. I try to smile.

"It's been a long day." He nods.

"It has. Can I buy you a drink? You look like you need to unwind as much as I do. McGrady's is still open." I sigh.

"I'm…sorry, Jonathan, I can't. Thanks for the offer, though." He almost looks surprised, and I feel like I've been transported back in time.

"You sure?" I nod.

"I'm sure. I'm sorry, but I'm sure." His jaw tightens, and he chews on the inside of his lip.

"Alright." He tries to smile. "If you're in town again, give me a call." I just nod. "It was still nice to see you. Maybe some other time…"

"It was nice to see you, too." He hesitates, then leaves. I turn back to my papers and just stare at them. I swear under my breath and throw a folder into the box a little harder than necessary. I know the others are watching me. Morgan's gaze met mine when I turned around. To avoid them, I drop into my seat and bury my head in my palms.

"Hey." I lift my head out of my hands as Aaron's hand lands on my back. I smile weakly.

"Hey."

"We're getting ready to go." I nod. Glancing around, I see the others are gone.

"I know, um…I think I'm gonna drive back. I'm gonna stop by my dad's…. Roxy's staying there while she gets back on her feet and he asked me to…." Aaron's eyebrows knit together in the middle with concern.

"Are you sure? You look exhausted." I nod.

"I am. But I'll be fine." I can see already this isn't gonna fly.

"What if you stay the night?" I shake my head.

"Nooo, I don't wanna stay. I'm just going by because he asked. I'll be fine, Aaron."

"I'll stay with you. I'll drive you back." I start to laugh.

"I can't fight with you," I say, standing up and throwing my hands in the air. "Not right now." He starts to smile and I shake my head. "Fine, fine. Let me get my stuff and we'll go. This won't take long."

The lights on the first floor of the house glow orange in the night. I lead Aaron up the walk way, and my father meets us at the porch. We step into the warm entry way, closing the screen door to the cold November air.

"Dad, this is Agent Hotchner. Hotch, Gunnery Sergeant Grant Taylor." They shake hands. "Dad, Agent Hotchner was the one who pulled Roxy out of the basement. When I told him I was stopping by he wanted the opportunity to check up on her."

"Thank you for all your work," my dad says. "Both of you. And please, call me Grant." Aaron nods. I've never heard him request that someone actually address him as Gunnery Sergeant, but I have seen him get incredibly offended when not introduced that way.

"I'm just glad this case turned out alright. We were lucky." He glances at me. "Gabby did some great work on this case. Her knowledge proved very valuable." I smile.

"How's Roxy, Dad?"

"She's good, she's good. Exhausted, I think, but she's had dinner and the doctors say she jus' needs to rest. She wants to see you, though." I nod, and we follow him into the living room.

Roxy sits on the couch in the spot I held just a day ago. Her legs are curled underneath a blanket, and she holds a coffee mug. She smiles brightly-if not a little tired-when she sees me.

"Gabriella! I'm so glad you stopped by. Come, sit." She laughs a little. "What am I telling you for? It's your house!" I smile as I sit next to her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, fine," she says, shaking her head dismissively. "I'm just a little tired. Your father's acting like I've been through some kind of war."

"Well, he isn't wrong…" She laughs.

"I know, you're right. I guess I'm just an eternal optimist."

"The woman wouldn't complain if she was dying," my dad grumbles from behind us.

"Oh, Grant." She rolls her eyes. "You ought to try whining a little less, maybe. Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done. And same to you, Agent Hotchner," she adds over my shoulder. "I really appreciate it, and I hope you'll pass my sentiments onto the rest of your team." I smile.

"We're just happy we got there in time and you're alright." She smiles and covers my hand with hers. For the first time I see a small crack in her exterior.

"_Thank you_." I glance back at Aaron, who's smiling just the slightest bit.

"I'm glad you came with me," I say when we get back in the car. "Thank you."

"Thank you for letting me."

"That's why you do this job, isn't it? People like her?" He nods. I smile a little.

"You'd make a good profiler, you know. You're very perceptive. You see things in people that most would miss." I stifle a yawn with my hand before answering.

"And become as crazy as the rest of you?" I ask, grinning sleepily. "Nope, don't think so." He laughs.

"I think you underestimate how well you fit in with us." I smile.

"I don't underestimate it, I just pretend to ignore it."

"Which way do I go to get out of here?" he asks.

"Just pull straight out, and go left in like four blocks, onto Roosevelt," I say through a yawn. "Then turn on University Av. the first chance you get." He nods. I yawn again and curl up against the door, resting my head on the window. I watch as the street lights pass one by one over Aaron's face. He seems more relaxed than I've seen him in days, but the exhaustion is etched in every line of his skin.

"There's a Starbucks on University Av, if you wanna stop for some coffee."

"Sure. It's still open?"

"It's on campus. It's always open."

"Ah….What's McGrady's?" he asks after a second. I groan and roll my eyes.

"Don't ask." He laughs. I shake my head and sigh. "What a day."

"He's not your type, you know." Aaron glances at me out of the corner of his eye, smirking slightly. I have the sudden urge to throw something at him, if only I had something to throw.

"Shut up. I know." _And neither are you, yet here we are._

Other than my directing Aaron into the Starbucks parking lot, there's silence the rest of the way. We get our coffees and get back in the car without a word to each other. For a minute we just sit there, and I drink as much as I can as quickly as I can.

"You're not my type either, you know," I say finally, although I'm not sure why. Aaron raises an eyebrow.

"No?"

"No."

"What is your type?" I think about it for a second, trying to decide how to put it.

"Derek," I say finally, nodding decisively.

"Derek is your type?"

"Derek is my type." Aaron nods, looking thoughtful.

"Interesting." I shrug.

"You asked."

"He asked you out, didn't he?" I frown.

"How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess." I lift the coffee cup back to my lips, looking at him suspiciously over the lid. "You didn't go," he points out. I lower the cup again slowly, thinking.

"None of this was supposed to happen, Aaron. I'm here four more months and then they're reassigning me. I didn't want to get attached to anyone. Not like that, at least."

"So is this decision making time?" All hints of a joke are gone from his face and voice, and he meets my eyes straight on.

"What do you mean?"

"Last time, we agreed we wouldn't decide anything for sure just then. You said yourself, if this keeps up you'll get attached, and you don't want to do that. So do you want to walk away." I don't know what to say. He's right; I said those exact things. And if I abide by any laws of common sense, I _should _walk away.

"I don't know what I want." He holds my gaze, and I'm having difficulty reading his eyes.

"I don't, either." Impulsively, I lean across the center console and kiss him. I need to know. I need to confirm what I'm already thinking-that it's too late to walk away. With a hand to the back of his neck, I pull him as close as I can in the awkward position. He isn't hesitant to kiss back, and despite receiving my answer the moment our lips touched, I feel no desire to stop.

"You really need to stop having this effect on me, Aaron Hotchner," I murmur when I pull away.

"Sorry. I'll get that taken care of as soon as I can." I start to smile, but it fades quickly. I sit back in my seat, rolling my coffee cup in my palms. "What's wrong?"

"I just…like to have everything figured out. And this is so far from being figured out."

"You don't have to have it figured out right now."

"I know. Still…" I want to kiss him again. Apparently, the person I need comfort from is the one I keep finding comfort in. He's not the warmest person in the world, but his constant sense of strength and solidity is beginning to replace where mine is faltering. I decide to hold back. Now is not the time. More than anything I just want to go home, and I find myself suddenly wishing I was making the two hour plus drive alone.

"Let's just forget about it for now. I'd rather not spend the entire drive in silence, alright?" I ask, sighing a little.

"Of course." He sets his coffee down to start the car. "You've only been here two months?" I nod.

"I know, it feels like it's been two years."

"Where are you being assigned next?" I shrug.

"They said something about New York. I don't know. I'm sure they'll tell me the day before I have to leave and then I have to go to like, Colorado or something."

"Where do you want to go?"

"I dunno. I wanted to go to New York, but now I'm not sure if I could handle living in a city that big full time again. Besides, I hate the Mets too much," I add, trying to inject a better mood back into the conversation.

"Braves fan, right?" Aaron begins to smile again a little. I eye him suspiciously.

"How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." I narrow my eyes.

"You can't possibly profile that I'm a Braves fan. Or, for that matter, that Derek asked me out, but that one I'm willing to let go."

"Your keychain, that your car keys are on. You pulled them out the other night in the elevator. And I knew your family was from Georgia. The Mets and Braves have been rivals since the 60's."

"I wouldn't take you for a baseball fan." He shakes his head.

"Not me, my dad."

"Ah." There's a pause, during which I drink some more coffee. I suddenly realize how little is left in the cup, and I don't remember drinking most of it.

"Which way next?"

"Go one more light, and turn left onto twenty-nine." He nods. I allow my eyes to rest on his face, taking back up the occupation of watching the lights flicker over him.

"Aaron."

"Hmm?" He glances at me as he slows the car to a stop under a traffic light.

"No matter what ends up happening, I _do _care about you." He says nothing, simply reaching out and covering my hand briefly with his. The car moves forward again, and I reach for the radio. A ten minute long argument ensues, in which a winner was never really crowned. Smiling to myself a little, I curl my legs up in the seat and lean my head back in silence.

"So this is Charlottesville, huh?" Aaron asks after a minute, as we roll through traffic lights next to the mall and a couple fast food restaurants. I nod, watching Lowe's pass through the driver's side window.

"Yeah. It's not much, is it?"

"Neither is Quantico." I nod.

"True. Very true."


	12. Chapter 12

Day 56

**He comes in the kitchen while I wait in front of the coffee pot, dressed in a bra and a pair of sweat pants I threw on just to come in here. I look up at him when his hand falls on the small of my back. Our eyes meet, and he kisses my forehead. The coffee machine beeps.**

"**I made it as strong as I could." The red numbers I glimpse as I pull down a paper cup read four thirty-five.**

"**Thanks." He shakes his head at the sugar I offer him. "It's fine." I nod. I set the pot back on its base, turn off the timer, and set out my own cup for later.**

"**You didn't have to get up," he says after a few seconds.**

"**You didn't have to drive me home." He meets my eyes again, and I stand up on my toes to kiss him while the smell of hazelnut swirls around us.**

"**I'll see you in a few hours," I say, stepping back down. He gives my side a gentle squeeze.**

"**Take a couple extra hours. Get some sleep." I smile a little.**

"**Thanks." He gives me one more quick kiss, pulling my bottom lip between both of his for just a moment, and releases me to head for the door. My Rottweiler, Harper, picks her head up as she passes, staring him down. Tonight marks the first time in the three years I've had her that she ever showed a genuine dislike for someone.**

"**Hey, Aaron?" He turns around, his hand on the door knob.**

"**Mm?"**

"**Be careful, okay?"**

"**I will." I nod.**

"**Good." He opens the door, and I go forward to close it behind him. I manage to catch him in one more kiss before he slips all the way out. Smiling just enough to be noticeable, he heads down the hall. I chain the door with a sigh.**

"**You can **_**not **_**act like that again," I say to the dog, lying partly in the door of my bedroom. It was only when I got up to make coffee that I let her out of the laundry room, where I put her when she wouldn't stop growling after we came in. Even still, she stayed protectively in the doorway, glaring at Aaron every time he got too close.**

**Running a hand through my hair, I look for the time again on the microwave. Four forty-one. Groaning, I shuffle back into my room and collapse on the bed. I look up long enough to set my alarm a couple hours forward, then pull the covers over my head and curl up. The bed creaks under Harper's weight as she claims the spot Aaron had been lying in minutes ago.**

**Day 61**

"I guess we're going to Columbus," Aaron says with a look on his face that hints he isn't entirely thrilled with the idea. I frown, and Emily catches my eye, seeming to have noticed his demeanor, too. I shrug, pick up my things, and follow him from the wrong.

"What's wrong?" I ask, entering his office right on his heels. He turns to look at me from the window, frustrated. He sighs.

"Jack's aunt is sick. The flu or something. She's not in any condition to take care of Jack, and I don't want him to catch it, too."

"So stay here. We'll be alright without you for a case. Think of it as a mini vacation." He shakes his head, and I knew that was too simple for him.

"I can't. I've taken too much time off lately." I chew on my bottom lip, thinking.

"What if you bring him with us?" His eyes meet mine, and he looks unsure.

"I don't know, Gabby…" he says slowly. "I can't watch him like I need to. He shouldn't be around all this. And he's in school right now."

"He isn't going to miss much in a few days away from kindergarten, and he can stay with me when you guys have to leave. He can…watch movies on my laptop or something away from most of the activity. I used to baby-sit all the time; I know what I'm doing with kids." He still seems split.

"If you'd rather him be home I know a girl who's a full time nanny, and she's really good. Her younger sister is my pet-sitter."

"No. No, I'd feel better if he was with us but…I can't ask you to keep up with a six year old on top of everything else," he says, looking genuinely torn. I shrug.

"You're not asking. I'm offering. I wouldn't offer if I didn't think I could really take good care of him."

"I know." He sighs. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I smile.

"It doesn't really sound like it."

"Alright. I guess that's what I'll do. You're sure you don't mind?" I shake my head.

"Not at all."

"Tell everyone I'm going to be late getting to the airstrip." I nod.

"No problem. See you there."

"Yeah."

"Jack, this is Gabby. She's going to look after you while I work for the next few days." Jack mumbles something like a hello while he clings to Aaron's leg, hiding half his face. I smile.

"Hi, Jack." He starts to turn away and Aaron picks him up. The resemblance is uncanny, although I remember hearing Aaron say once he saw nothing but Jack's mother in him.

"Come on, buddy. Let's go sit down." I stand up and go back to my seat.

"I need you to stay back here while we do some work," I hear Aaron telling the five year old. "Listen to your mp3 player, and we'll be done soon, okay?" Jack nods and puts his headphones on. Aaron brushes his hand over his hair, gives him one last look, and comes to join me.

"He'll be fine," I say, looking up at him. "He looks perfectly happy." He nods.

"I know. He'll warm up to you," he adds after a pause. "And when he does he won't want anything to do with me. It just takes him a little while." I smile.

"Good to know. I'm gonna make some coffee before we start moving. You want some?" His eyes leave Jack and meet mine.

"Sure. Thanks." I flash him a smile and he follows me to the front of the plane.

**Day 65**

I'm sitting in one of the conference rooms when Aaron returns. Jack is curled up in my lap, his head on my shoulder, asleep. _The Lion King _plays on the laptop in front of us, and it's almost over.

"Hey," I say quietly when Aaron appears in the door.

"Hey. He's asleep?" I nod.

"I put the movie on and ten minutes later he passed out."

"How's he been?" I smile.

"Aaron, this child is an _angel_. I've dealt with all kinds of kids and he's perfect. He got a little argumentative just before I decided to try the movie but I think he's just exhausted. Otherwise, he's been perfect." He gives a tired smile.

"Good. I was really hoping he'd be good for you."

"He was wonderful." I look down at Jack's quiet face, and his striking resemblance to his father is as evident as ever even in the dim lighting.

"I'll take him from here. Maybe if we're lucky he'll just stay asleep." I nod and sit up slowly. Aaron scoops him gently out of my arms and settles him in his own. A small smile creeps over Jack's face, but he doesn't stir. Aaron smiles himself and brushes back Jack's hair. The past few days have been a whole new side of him-a side that was kind of always there, hiding underneath the surface. I feel weird even thinking it, but it almost has me wishing for a night when we weren't flying home right away, and Jack wasn't here.

"I've gotta get my stuff together. You go ahead and I'll get a ride with the others." He nods and quietly leaves the room. I stand, stretch, and yawn. Running my hands over my face, I turn to the laptop to turn it off.

The sounds of clothes being thrown into my bag break the otherwise deafening silence in my hotel room. Reid, Morgan, and I rode back together in silence, and entered the team's hallway to more silence. Usually, after shorter and more successful cases, you can hear everyone talking to each other, doors open, going from room to room as we pack. Tonight, nothing. The last few days feel like they've been in double time, and all any of us want is to sleep.

I'm fighting to zip up the duffle bag when someone knocks lightly on the door. Sighing, I give the bag a dirty look as I walk away. Even inanimate objects can't cooperate with me tonight.

"Hey." I attempt a smile at Aaron.

"Hey. Can I come in for a minute?"

"Sure." I step aside and close the door behind him. "What's up?"

"I didn't really get the chance to thank you, for taking care of Jack," he says, turning to face me. "I don't think you know, Gabby, how much it means that you did this. I know it was a lot for you to take on, along with everything else you're in charge of, and I really appreciate it." I smile.

"It was no problem. And when I say that I mean it. He was an absolute angel and I couldn't possibly have asked for anything better. Besides, when I wasn't busy it was nice to have him to play with. He's a really sweet kid."

"Thank you," he says simply, looking too exhausted to really come up with anything else. I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my tip toes to kiss him. I don't know what made me do it; I couldn't help myself.

"You're welcome." He looks surprised, but pleasantly so. I smile. "I-sorry. I don't know-"

"It's okay. I should go. If he wakes up and I'm gone he won't be happy." I nod.

"Yeah. See you in a few." He nods.

"See you," he says quietly. I smile again softly and he leaves.


	13. Chapter 13

**Day 69**

"Hey, Rossi? Where's Hotch?" It's almost ten in the morning, and he still hasn't shown up. We always brief our cases at ten, and usually if he's going to be out for all or part of the day, he calls first.

"He's taking a couple of days off. Jack came down with the flu and Jessica's still sick." I bite my lip.

"Seriously?" Smiling slightly, he nods.

"Yeah. You can call him if you need anything. Or let me know if I can help."

"Oh, um, well I have a case for everyone to look at. It's almost ten."

"Call everyone together. I want to see it." I nod and head for the conference room.

"Gabby. Hi." Aaron looks surprised when he opens the front door. I smile.

"Hi. Um, I was just wondering how Jack's doing? Do you…is there anything I can do? To help? You sounded kind of exhausted on the phone."

"You're just not happy if you're not constantly busy, are you?" I laugh.

"No, I guess not." He smiles. "But seriously, if you need anything…"

"It will mean a lot to Jack that you came to check up on him. He's still up, if you wanna come see him." I follow him into the house to the living room, where Jack is curled up on the couch watching TV.

"Gabby!" His voice is soft and scratchy but his face lights up, and I'm immediately glad I came.

"Hey, kid. Feeling any better?"

"Thank you for stopping by. It meant a lot to Jack." I smile, turning in the doorway.

"No problem. He's a sweet kid, and we had a lot of fun last week, actually."

"He said he had a lot of fun, too. I can't thank you enough for that."

"You're welcome." He smiles a little. "Well, I need to get going. Some of us have to go to work tomorrow." I smirk at him and he laughs quietly.

"I might come in for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. Jessica's getting better." I nod.

"Maybe I'll see you then."

"Maybe." There's an awkward pause, and I dig my hands deeper in my pockets.

"Good night, Aaron," I say finally.

"Good night, Gabby." I turn to go, my heels on the flagstone resounding loudly in the quiet night.

"Aaron, I-" I realize this isn't going to go anywhere if I don't make it, so I turn back around, take a deep breath, and start over. "Jack isn't the only reason I came by." His gaze is so solid I have to glance away.

"I know." We just stand there for a moment, about ten feet of space between us. Before I can come up with anything else to say or do next, a snowflake falls in front of me. Unsure if I really saw it, I look up as more begin to fall, illuminated by the light pouring from the house.

"I thought it wasn't supposed to start until the morning," I murmur, holding out my hand to catch the flakes.

"So much for that," Aaron comments. I nod, thrilled. We've seen snow in other cities already, but this is the first snow for Northern Virginia.

A grin spreads across my face as the snowflakes linger momentarily on the palm of my hand. I look at Aaron, and I feel like I have no choice but to take this as some sort of sign. He looks steadily back. I close the distance between us quickly, and he steps onto the walkway to clear the last bit of the gap.

Every kiss has been different. It always seems to be a different situation, different stakes. This one feels more freeing than the others, as if a little more of the wall around him is being chipped away.

"Are you gonna be alright to drive home?" I nod, even though part of me wants to say no.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I-I don't want to make that why I came, because it wasn't, just…so you know."

"I know. It's okay." I step away a little.

"See you tomorrow, maybe." He nods. I kiss him again.

"If it's bad in the morning, don't worry about it." I smile a little.

"I won't. Thanks."

"Good night." He kisses me one more time.

"Night." I walk away, smiling to myself.

**Day 76**

"You look like…someone dropped your birthday cake on the ground." Aaron looks up from his phone, one eyebrow raised. I smile and sit down next to him. "You alright?"

"Just ready to be home." I nod.

"Me, too."

"You're looking a little more depressed than usual." His gaze wanders all over my face, settling on my eyes.

"I'm _exhausted_. And not thrilled about this seven hour flight." He nods. I cover a yawn with my hand. Silence falls as I watch the others move around the plane in front of us. Rossi reading, Emily and Reid playing cards, and Morgan observing the game with an amused expression. I let my head fall back on the seat, trying to relieve the feeling that my neck is just too strained to stay up straight anymore.

"I have movies, if you're interested. Might help pass the time," I say finally, looking over at Aaron.

"Movies?"

"Mhmm. On my laptop. Pretty much anything you could think of."

"Alright," he says, nodding after giving it some thought. I reach out to squeeze his arm as I get up. The cabin lights dim. I retrieve the computer, my blanket, and an extra from one of the overhead bins. A round of laughter bursts out from the card game as I slide back into my seat.

Aaron murmurs his thanks as I hand him a blanket. I stretch my legs out so my feet are resting on the seat across from me.

"Wanna pick something?" I ask, opening the laptop and Netflix. Aaron shakes his head.

"I wouldn't know where to start. Any movies I've watched lately are kids' movies." I smile.

"Well, then, you're in luck, 'cause I've pretty much seen them all."

"Go for it, then." He gestures at the screen and I smile again. Shrugging, I pull the computer towards me to scroll through my options. When I sit back again, as the opening credits begin to roll, I can't help but think that Aaron's shoulder looks like it would make a great pillow, if only there weren't four other people with us that would find it incredibly weird.

I settle for resting my head on the seat, sliding down a little more so I can stretch out further. I cross my arms under the blanket, and fall asleep somewhere in the first thirty minutes. When I wake up again, the laptop is closed. The lights are lower than before, and everyone is either asleep or trying to be. Aaron is leaning against the window. Rubbing my eyes, I slip out of the seat to the other side of the table, so I can curl up a little more comfortably and hopefully go back to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Day 80**

"How long has that been in here?" Derek asks, eyeing the crumpled, almost empty bag of Doritos in my hand with an odd expression. I shrug.

"I dunno. A while, I guess. They are getting _kind _of stale." I frown at the inside of the bag.

"Kind of stale?" Now he's looking at me like I'm crazy.

"They're really not that bad, here." I hold out the bag. He scoops out a few small pieces. "See?" I say when he shrugs like I might be right. "I had a salad for lunch and I was hungry fifteen minutes later. These are all I had lying around."

"You know they have fresh ones in the cafeteria, though, right?"

"I do. But I don't have time to go down there. Unless you wanna go get me some, since apparently you have nothing to do if you're in here talking to me," I add with a grin. He sighs.

"Yeah, alright. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get lunch anyway, but since you're _so _busy…"

"Sorry. I would, but I have fourteen of these to get through before I leave tonight. Management is threatening to lock me in if I keep staying so late. Next time, though." Derek rolls his eyes.

"Uh huh, next time. How many times have I heard that line?" I laugh.

"Oh, shut up. You're such a drama queen. Here." I fish a few bills out of my purse and toss them to him across the desk. "I will be forever in your debt if you get me some not-stale chips and a bottle of Diet Coke."

"You can repay me with dinner, you know," he says, smirking. I shake my head.

"_Never_." His smirk morphs into a grin.

"Whatever you say," he says, starting for the door. I continue to shake my head as he leaves, passing Aaron on the way.

"Why were you giving Morgan money?" he asks suspiciously. I laugh.

"He's taken pity on my awful eating habits and is getting me food that hasn't passed it's expiration date." Aaron's expression turns to one similar to Derek's when I said the chips were going stale. "It's not as bad as it sounds, I swear." He starts to say something, then seems to realize it isn't worth it.

"Whatever. I just came to tell you Jack's here, and he's asking to see you."

"Aww, really? Today just went from _stupid _to great in the time it took you to say his name. Where is he?"

"My office." I toss the Doritos bag in the trash next to my desk and stand up.

"Alright, I guess if there was ever a time to take a break, it's now." I pull my shoes out from under my desk, slip them on, and follow Aaron down the hall.

"Gabby!" Jack is standing in the door of his dad's office, his toy Buzz Lightyear in his hand.

"Hey, kid! What are you doing here in the middle of the day?" I ask, scooping him up in my arms.

"Thanksgiving is tomorrow! So no school."

"Ohhh, well that's exciting. I wish work had such extended holidays. We're lucky we're getting the weekend." I throw a glance at Aaron, who nods in agreement. "So were you out all day today? Or was it a half day."

"Half day. We got to watch movies all day."

"Oh, man, those are the best days. What movies did you watch?"

"Toy Story!" He holds his Buzz Lightyear high in the air. I glance at Aaron again, and we both grin.

"Toy Story's pretty awesome, huh." Jack nods vigorously. I smile. "Well, sweetie, I would love to stay and play with you for the rest of the day, but I have a _lot _of work to do. I promise, though, that I'll do it as fast as I can, so I can hang out with you and Buzz before you leave, alright?" He nods again.

"Okay."

"Good. If you want later, you can come sit in my office for a little bit." He smiles brightly, giving another, happier, "okay." I set him back down and he darts into Aaron's office. I turn to face him, still smiling.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you brought him in here. I needed that." He looks more relaxed than I've seen him in days. Chalk one up for children and their healing powers.

"I told you, once he warmed up to you he wouldn't want anything to do with me." I laugh.

"That's not true. But he _might _like me a little bit more than you." Aaron gives me an exasperated kind of look.

"I should be used to that by now." I laugh again.

"Yeahhhh, people preferring me to you is kind of becoming a pattern now, isn't it?" The exasperation stays firmly planted on his face. Suddenly Derek appears over his shoulder. "Oh my gosh, thank you," I say, taking my food from him.

"You're welcome. You're sure I don't get dinner?" I shake my head.

"Lunch. One day next week, I swear it." Before anyone can say anything else, Jack appears again, asking Derek to play with him. Derek obliges, and allows Jack to lead him to the conference room to color. Aaron and I exchange smiles.

"That's what he gets for being bored."

"I really hope he doesn't have anything to do for the rest of the day," Aaron says, looking amused. I grin and pull open my new bag of Doritos.

"Okay, this is me, going back to work. Text me every once in a while to make sure I haven't died?" He nods.

"Sure."

"Thanks. See you when I come up for air in a few hours." I roll my eyes and head back down the hallway, feeling like I have a little more strength than I did before. I wonder if Aaron felt anything like I did, when we were both standing there with Jack. I wonder if he felt as comfortable as I did. Shrugging it away, I flop down in my chair, kick my shoes off, and pull another stack of files towards me.

"So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Aaron asks curiously. I've finally finished my work, and I'm eating dinner with Jack in Aaron's office.

"I'm driving to Charlottesville in the morning. I'll be there all weekend. What about you guys?"

"Just staying home," he says with a shrug. "Making our own Thanksgiving dinner." I can't suppress a smile.

"_You _cook?" He shoots me a sideways glance.

"Yes."

"Daddy makes good macaroni cheese," Jack says, looking up from eating a chicken nugget with one hand and flying Buzz around his head with the other. I smile at Aaron.

"Really now. I love macaroni and cheese." Jack nods.

"Me, too."

"Are you going to see your dad?" Aaron asks after a pause. I shake my head, taking a sip of my water before answering.

"No. He always goes to Georgia for Thanksgiving, and I hate his family." I glance at Jack, who doesn't seem to be paying attention. "I mean…yeah. Um, I'm spending it with some old roommates. We always go to the UVA, Virginia Tech game every year, and this year it's in Charlottesville and it's on Thanksgiving weekend, so we're making ourselves a big meal and going to the game Saturday."

"I hope your friends can cook." I glare at him.

"_I _can cook. I can cook pretty well, thank you." He raises an eyebrow and I sigh. "I know I eat like I wouldn't know real food from plastic, but I just never have time to put any effort into it." He nods, but doesn't look convinced. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever you say."

"What is with you guys today? No one believes a word I say."

"I believe you, Gabby," Jack says. I grin.

"Thank you, Jack. Come on, if _he _believes me then it must be true," I add in Aaron's direction. He shrugs. I finish my dinner with a glare fixed on the top of his head while he keeps working.

"What time is it?" I ask after a second, searching my immediate area for my phone.

"Seven-thirty." I find the phone under a napkin, confirm the time, and slip it in my pocket.

"Alright. I think I'm gonna head home, then. If I can get my stuff together fast enough, I might try to get out of here tonight." I gather my trash. Aaron says something to Jack about needing to talk to me, and follows me to my office.

"I'm really glad you brought him in," I say when I hit the door.

"Yeah, me, too."

"It's really just the two of you for Thanksgiving?" He nods.

"Yeah. It's fine, though. We don't usually get to spend time together like that." I smile.

"Well that's good. This is the first time in a while I actually have Thanksgiving plans. It's nice. Just, please don't ruin it by calling me up here for a case, okay? At least not until like, seven Saturday night." He laughs a little.

"I'll try not to." I stop packing up my stuff to meet his eyes.

"Although, if you feel like calling me for any other reason, I wouldn't mind."

"I might do that." His voice is quieter, in an odd way, almost as if he's lost a little of his usual confidence. "You know if you didn't already have plans, you could have come to eat with us. So you wouldn't have to spend the day alone." A smile spreads quickly across my face.

"That's really sweet of you. If I didn't already have plans, I _might _have taken you up on that."

"Maybe another time?" I nod.

"Maybe another time." He pushes the door shut, and leans in to press a slow kiss to my lips. I smile against him, lacing the end of his tie between my fingers.

"Aaron," I murmur, pulling back. His dark eyes wander over mine, and I kiss him again. "Have a good Thanksgiving."

"Have a good Thanksgiving." We break apart and I pick up my bags. He holds the door open for me, which I lock behind us.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Jack. I hope it's a great one," I say, sticking my head through the door.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Gabby!" He smiles brightly. I blow him a kiss, and turn to go. On the way out, I stop to talk to the others for a minute. While I wait for the elevator, I glance back to see Aaron talking to his son at the top of the stares. He glances up at the sound of the door, and I wave one more time before stepping in.


End file.
